The Letter
by mango-melone
Summary: "'Dear Mr Godfather,' the letter read, 'My name is Harry Potter, and I'm living with my aunt and uncle, but I don't like it very much.'" When through an act of desperation and accidental magic a letter finds its way into Azkaban, Sirius Black decides that his godson needs him. But how do you take care of a child when you're a wanted criminal?
1. Black, Lupin, Potter

**Hello and welcome to my story!**

 **It'll be a shorter AU-fic of the what-if-Sirius-got-to-raise-Harry-kind. I know there's quite a few of them already, but I just like the idea of Harry getting a happy childhood, so I decided to write my own. Enjoy and do tell me what you think!  
**

* * *

 **The Dog in The Fortress**

The dark fortress in the middle of the ocean was plagued by many things, most of them unpleasant. There was the constant dampness, seeping through the thick stone walls. There was the salt, eating away at its surface. The cold wind never stopped, and often grew to monstrous, howling storms, rattling at the foundations, the freezing rain finding its way even into the innermost cells.

Yet despite its position in the middle of the sea, the waves crashing against the rocks were the only sound to be heard. No sea birds called, no gulls bickered over food on its stony shores. From the outside, the rocky island looked dead, the black fortress on its top seemingly abandoned. Fear hung over the place, a despair that penetrated deeper than even the most freezing storm.

And then there were the howls that didn't come from the wind. They came in episodes, just like the storm, but they were shorter, exhausted after mere minutes. None of the inhabitants of the fortress had enough strength to keep it up, thFlighte shouting and screaming but a feeble protest of their waning minds. Sooner or later, they all stopped, and the rushing waves were once again the only sound.

One thing the fortress did not see often was post. It did not have an address, much less a muggle postman that knew how to find it. And it certainly wasn't frequented by owls, who gave the island and the terrible creatures that guarded it an even wider berth than any hungry seagulls. Much less did it have inhabitants that anybody would want to write to.

And yet, on one particularly stormy night that certainly no owl, be it ever so brave, could have flown through, there appeared a letter in one of the cells, fluttering in on an icy gust of wind through the narrow window and landing right next to the scruffy black dog that was curled up in one corner.

The dog was sleeping, but the soaked paper brushing its paw made it twitch, a low whimper escaping its massive snout. The dog blinked and opened its eyes, grey eyes that had once shone with life but were now dull and glazed over. It lay still for a moment, the only movement being its eyes quickly scanning its surroundings.

There wasn't much to see. In one direction the cell was so narrow it could barely turn around. It was bigger in the other direction, maybe ten feet long. One end was blocked by thick iron bars, a dark corridor barely visible beyond it. There was another set of bars opposite, but its inhabitant had long gone silent. The wall at the other end was bare, except for a small window five feet above the ground, also barred. Rain dripped in through it, and the stones beneath it were white with salt that the sea had swept in over the years.

Everything was unchanged, as it had been for the past six years. The dog was just about to go back to sleep when another gust went through the cell, lifting up the scrap of paper next to it. It reacted instinctively, its head shooting forward, big fangs snapping at the sudden intrusion. It said it down between its front paws, taking a closer look at it, and blinked. It blinked again. And then it changed into a man.

He wasn't much of a man, more a shadow of a human being. His ragged robes hung loosely around his narrow frame and his long, matted hair fell into his sunken face, its waxy skin giving him closer resemblance to a corpse than a living being. His skeletal hands were shivering as they held the letter, staring down at it with the dog's dull eyes.

It wasn't so much a letter but a folded piece of paper, soggy from the rain it had apparently flown through. But on it, in very neat handwriting, was clearly written:

 _To Sirius Black, Azkaban, Cell 84_

It appeared to be ink, yet the damp patches did not seem to affect it at all, the writing just as clear as if it had sat on a dry desk instead of having flown through a storm.

For a long while, the man did not move, sitting on the cold floor as motionless as if he really was a corpse. Then lightning illuminated the sky outside, followed by thunder, and he finally lifted one shaking hand, slowly unfolding the paper.

The writing inside was much less neat than the one on the front, yet just as miraculously preserved. There was no light inside the prison, and the moon was barely visible between the storm clouds, so it took him quite some time to decipher the words. When he had finally finished, he again sat silent for a long time, before safely tucking the paper away in his robes. Then he got up, stepping to the window and peering outside. The storm was weaker now, and the crashing of the waves had receded a bit.

A dark figure swept passed the window, the cold freezing the water droplets that clung to the iron bars, and the man stumbled back with a groan, falling over. Before he hit the ground he was gone, the black dog once more standing in the cold cell.

In the morning, it was gone as well.

* * *

 **The Man in the Shack**

Remus Lupin had never thought of himself as particularly brave. Ever since that terrible incident when he was five, bravery was the very last thing on his mind. He lived in constant terror of the monster inside him, the monster that he was powerless to stop, that would rip him apart every month no matter what he did.

It had come as a bit of a surprise to him, then, when the Sorting Hat had put him into Gryffindor, and for the first few weeks he'd been rather certain that it had indeed been a mistake. Even later, when he had risked his life fighting against the darkest wizard Britain had ever seen, he wouldn't have used that word to describe himself.

Because he did not fight with the energetic bravado of James or Sirius, who did not seem to even consider death, or the quiet determination of Peter who followed them into battle after battle despite his trembling knees. He fought because while he certainly knew about the dangers, they simply didn't scare him. He wasn't was afraid to get hurt, maybe killed – because really, while he did not enjoy pain he was used to it, and death in battle seemed like the most a werewolf could hope for. He had embraced his fate, finding comfort in the seven years of joy he had spent and Hogwarts, and deciding that for a werewolf, he really had been exceptionally lucky, even if he were to get hit by a killing curse the next day.

Yet he hadn't died, and the years that followed had been far less kind to him. He was sick, unemployed, and desperately poor, living in a small house that had once been his parents' cottage, but now barely deserved that moniker.

So it was that he again found himself lacking any sort of fear when he found himself facing the dark wizard in his own home, the Death Eater he had once called friend, and who Dumbledore had warned him might come to kill him.

He didn't even make to ward the door when he heard the cautious sniffing outside. He merely set down the cup of tea he had been holding and carefully extracted his wand from his pocket, not moving from the battered old armchair he was sitting in.

"There's no Aurors here, in case you were wondering," he finally said loudly, surprised at how calm his voice sounded. The sniffing stopped, directly in front of the front door now. Then, there was the rustling of robes, and the breathing changed. Remus gripped his wand faster. While he had no real ambition to come out of this alive, his pride kept him from just giving in, and letting the man who had murdered his friends kill him without at least putting up a fight first.

Slowly, the weathered door opened, creaking terribly in its hinges. It revealed a gaunt figure, ragged robes flying across bare ankles in the soft morning breeze. As he stared into the face of the man who had destroyed his life, all Remus could find himself think was how terribly different he looked from the handsome boy he had once been.

Black – because he had stopped calling him Sirius, or even Padfoot in his mind many years ago – didn't move, standing in the open doorway and staring at the other man with dull, haunted eyes. He didn't carry a wand, as Remus noticed when he could finally tore his eyes away from that horribly sunken face.

Slowly, Remus made to stand, his wand still firmly in his hand. He knew he should stun him quickly, while Black still seemed to be frozen in place, or at least call the Aurors, but he found his wand hand unable to move. All these years he had wondered what he'd say to Black should their paths ever cross again, even considered visiting him in that god-awful place, asking him, screaming at him how he could ever have betrayed Lily and James, how he could have killed Peter… and yet here he found himself unable to speak.

"Here to finish the job?" he finally managed, his earlier calm gone completely as his voice was now barely more than a whisper.

It was enough to shake Black out of his stupor. "Remus," he croaked, moving forward a slow step before coming to a stop once more. "I – I need you to listen."

Remus raised an eyebrow, his courage coming back to him. Although it probably wasn't courage, but lack of care. "Listen?" he said, almost managing the mocking tone he had aimed for. "I don't think I want to listen to anything you have to say, ever again." Black flinched, but took another step forward, closing the door behind him. Remus raised his wand a little higher.

"I'm not…I never…" Black's voice faltered, and he grabbed for his left sleeve. Remus' automatically flinched, expecting him to draw a hidden wand, but all Black did was lift up the sleeve, and present his left arm to him. His bare arm.

"No mark," he croaked. "I'm not one of them; I never was."

Remus' wand arm faltered a little, but he kept the tip firmly pointed at his former friend. "Of course there's no mark. What kind of spy would you be if he had marked you?" He didn't know why he was even speaking to Black. He should call the Aurors, or, better yet, Dumbledore. But he didn't.

Black shook his head. "He marked him. He marked Wormtail."

It took a few moments for his words to sink in. When Remus realized what Black implied, his grip on his wand tightened further, his knuckles going white. "Don't you-"

"It was him," Black blurted, his face contorting into a mask of anger and pain. Oddly, it made him look human for the first time since he had stepped through the door. "We swapped it was my idea…I thought it was so clever , because nobody would expect it to be him, and Voldemort'd hunt me, and they'd be safe…we didn't tell you because...because I thought you were the traitor, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...and then he…and they…I hunted him, wanted to kill him. But he was faster, and he blew up the street and cut off his finger and transformed…I was outwitted by Wormtail." He laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter laugh.

Remus simply stared, his mind trying to process what he'd just heard. _This is ridiculous. He's trying to trick you, trying to get you to lower your wand…he doesn't have one; he needs to win you over so he can defeat you…_ And yet he still did not cast his Patronus to call Dumbledore.

At his hesitation, hope flickered up in Black's grey eyes. "Please, Remus. Lily and James... _James_. You know I'd never...could never..."

Six years Remus had tried to consolidate the Sirius Black he had known at school with the cold blooded traitor, and he still hadn't quite managed it. And yet...

"You want me to believe that Peter beat you? Peter Pettigrew?" He was surprised at how cold his voice sounded. Black flinched, and didn't answer immediately. Remus had known Peter's duelling skills, just as much as Black's. There was no question which of them would've won in a fight.

"I- he must've had that plan all along," Black finally said, slower than before. "And I wasn't thinking clearly. I wanted to kill him, but I also wanted him to admit what he had done before I did. And he used that. Called me traitor – _me_ – in front of all those muggles, and before I knew it, there was this huge explosion – barely had time to shield myself – and all those people were dead, and then I saw him, and he had _cut off his fucking finger_ and then he was gone, and I didn't..."

"You laughed," Remus said tonelessly, remembering the gruelling recollection of the muggle witness. "When the Aurors got there, you laughed."

Black shrugged – an oddly human gesture that didn't fit at all to his corpse-like appearance. "What would you have done?" he said, looking at Remus in a way that the old Sirius Black might have done. Remus quickly averted his gaze. "Lily and James were dead, _because of my brilliant plan_ , I hadn't slept in three days, and then I got bested by Peter Bloody Pettigrew, of all people. I just..." He shrugged again, his voice sounding small now. "I thought I'd get a trial, and that maybe I could convince Dumbledore to believe me, or you..." He grimaced, bitterness creeping into his tone. "But that never happened, did it? Right off to Azkaban with dear cousin Bellatrix."

Remus didn't answer, still refusing to look at Black. _This is mental. Call Dumbledore already._ But he still didn't. "So you're saying that Peter's a Death Eater, and still alive?" he asked instead, struggling to make it sound quite as ridiculous as he felt it should be – because really, who would ever believe chubby, twitchy little Peter to be anything but a harmless little boy?

"Don't know if he's still alive," Black said darkly, ignoring the disbelieving tone. "Probably is, though. Ugly rats like him always find a way." Seeing Remus' still hadn't lowered his wand, his tone grew more pleading. "How come you believe _I'm_ a Death Eater and not Wormtail?" he said, sounding almost undignified. "When did I ever hang out with people stronger than me? When did I ever show anything but contempt for people like my family? When did I _ever_ break my word?"

Remus didn't answer. The storm of thoughts that was swirling in his mind ever since Sirius had started speaking had grown so much that he was now struggling to make out any clear outline. This was just...surely it couldn't be? He'd spent the last six years desperately trying to come to terms with the fact that person he'd known in school was actually as dark wizard, a traitor and a murderer. And now... Only then did he realize that he'd just called him Sirius in his mind.

His wand arm was trembling now. _It can't be..._

He forced himself to look up, directly into the sunken grey eyes that had once shone with so much life, so much energy. Slowly, struggling to get the words out of his mouth, he asked: "Which finger?"

* * *

 **The Boy in the Cupboard**

The boy sat on the front steps of number four Privet Drive, enjoying the first rays of spring sun on his face. It was a Sunday afternoon, the street and the houses on it lay deserted. It was a rather boring street, with neat, regular front lawns framed by neat, regular hedges that led to boring, boxy houses that all looked the same. The expensive cars parked in the driveways also looked the same.

In fact, the only thing breaking the tedious pattern was the aforementioned boy sitting on the front steps of number four. In any other surrounding he would not have been very remarkable, forgettable even, but here, in the almost unnatural tidiness, his somewhat scruffy appearance – the unruly black hair, the visibly mended glasses, the baggy, second-hand clothes – looked rather out of place.

Maybe it was fitting then, that Harry Potter was looking for something out of place himself.

It had begun about a week ago – shortly after that incident with the vanishing letter, actually – when very strange people had started showing up on the usually boring street he lived in. The first one, on Monday night, had been a rather small man, wearing an odd sort of long, green coat and the most ridiculous top hat that Harry had ever seen, coloured in bright purple. He'd met him on his way back from school, having taken a detour to get out of his cousin's way, and had almost run into the man when he was rounding a corner. Instead of shouting or reprimanding him, as Harry was used to from adults, the man had let out an odd sort of squeal, almost as if Harry's presence had scared him, before scampering off towards Wisteria Walk.

On Tuesday morning, there had been a woman walking past on the opposite side of the road when Harry and his cousin had left for school. She was wearing a green scarf but seemed otherwise normal, if maybe a little eccentric for Little Whinging. But when the door opened she stopped to turn around, staring at the two boys until Aunt Petunia appeared behind them, narrowing their eyes and muttering about "shady, thieving folks". If Harry hadn't known this to be ridiculous, he would have sworn the strange woman had been looking at him.

He didn't see anybody on Wednesday or Thursday, although he felt oddly watched whenever he stepped out of the door. On Friday, then, there was a giant, brown bird waiting in front of his driveway as he came home from school, and even though it flew off before he could get closer he couldn't help stare after it, once again colliding with someone. This someone was even stranger than anybody had met before. He was wearing a worn coat and was leaning onto a stick, though while he seemed old he did not look like he actually needed help walking. His face was rather terrifying, crossed by terribly scars, and his nose appeared to be _missing._ On his head sat an enormous bowler, drawn deep into his face and covering one of his eyes. Despite the rather mundane hat, Harry found himself thinking of a pirate. The man's visible eye narrowed at him as he looked the boy over, and Harry felt his pulse quickening – pirates were dangerous, weren't they? – but the man only huffed, shifting the weight onto his stick. "Eyes on the road, lad," he growled, turning away and making his way down the road towards Magnolia Crescent, "Constant vigilance." As he walked, Harry could hear the distinct "thump" of a wooden leg at every other step. As he slowly went into the house, Harry found himself wondering what a pirate was doing in Little Whinging.

Intrigued by these strange happenings that seemed to go almost unnoticed by his Aunt and Uncle – although Uncle Vernon had complained about a "dirty beggar" hanging around Magnolia Road the other day – Harry decided to investigate. It was the weekend, meaning the Dursleys would spend most of their day inside, watching television. At first he had tried to set up camp in the kitchen, where he had a good view on the road, but after Aunt Petunia had found him and suspected him of wanting to steal food, he had migrated outside the front door. Of course she would be terribly angry if she found him here, as well – after all, sitting outside one's front steps was not considered normal by the inhabitants of Privet Drive – but as it was, she was too caught up in feeding Dudley with any sweets that he could stuff in his mouth to notice.

The front steps weren't the most comfortable place, and as he hadn't dared to take a coat for fear of looking suspicious, he'd been rather cold yesterday, but it was still better than spending time in his cupboard and listening to his cousin's squeals of delight at whatever cartoon was playing on the television.

Sadly, Saturday hadn't just been cold, but also disappointing when it came to the strange people. The only person to have come close to number four had been the postman, who, while at least smiling at Harry, was not strange at all. There hadn't been any giant birds again either, just a tabby cat that seemed to have taken a liking to sitting on the small wall on the opposite side of the road. As his boredom grew, Harry had considered walking over to pet it, but then he remembered the terribly frightening lady that lived there and had settled for watching it, just as the cat seemed to watch him.

Despite his failure, he had taken up his watch once more today, an odd tingling of anticipation in his belly. Today just seemed... _promising._ Something good was going to happen, Harry decided. For once, the cold April weather seemed finally over, and the sun shone down warmly on him as he sat on the stone steps, waiting.

There were even less people about than the day before, but instead of dull, the quiet felt different, anticipating. And then, just as Harry was wondering whether he should go inside to try and sneak some late lunch, it happened.

Two soft pops sounded through the air, oddly loud in the quiet street. When the two people stepped around the corner, Harry immediately knew that they were the same sort of strange as the man in the top hat had been. For once, they were wearing the same weird coats, even though theirs were brown and rather shabby looking. The one in the front had long, black hair whose unkempt state would have had Aunt Petunia fainting. His face was pale, almost skull-like, as if he hadn't been outside for a long time and skipped a lot of meals while he was at it. But there was an impatient spring in his step, and his eyes seemed to shine with life as he was craning his neck for something.

The other man was also looking around, if somewhat more cautiously. He had many lines on his face that were, Harry realized when they got closer, scars. His hair was of a sandy brown colour, shorter than his companion's but still almost reaching the collar of his coat. Petunia wouldn't have liked him much either, Harry decided.

His heart quickened as he realized that they were coming his way, and as he remembered the lessons they had in school about not talking to strangers, he began to question his decision to sit out here alone. Maybe he should go back inside...

Then, the black haired man seemed to have found what he was looking for, and every thought of flight left Harry's head as he realized what it was. Or rather, who.

The man stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Harry as if he had seen a ghost. _Maybe he's confused because you're sitting out here. Aunt Petunia says it's a strange thing to do, and grown-ups don't like strange things._

The second man put a hand on his companion's arm, muttering something, and the first man started moving again, slower now. Towards Harry.

As they made their way up the driveway of number four, Harry slowly got to his feet. Should he say something? Should he fetch Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon? After all, they must be here for the Dursleys. Harry never had visitors. And yet, they did not look like the sort of visitors the Dursleys got, either...

Before he could decide what to do, the black haired man stopped in front of him, looking down at Harry with something that resembled a smile on his gaunt face. His eyes – grey, as Harry noticed – shone with emotion as he slowly extracted something from the pocket of his coat. "Harry," he said in a rather hoarse voice that sounded like it hadn't been used very much recently. "I got your letter."

* * *

 **That's it for now, but the next few chapters are already written, so you can expect them soon. In the meantime, why don't you review? ;)**


	2. The Headmaster

**So many Reviews!**

 **I really didn't expect this much interest in this story; you guys are great! :)  
**

 **As promised, here's the next chapter! (Might be slightly confusing as I felt like experimenting stylistically a bit with this one. I apologize in advance)**

* * *

 **The Headmaster**

The old man was worried as he sat in the abnormally tidy living room, the two muggles perched in front of him with identical looks of horror and disgust. Not because of the open hostility, or even the distinct lack of concern they seemed to have for their nephew's well-being, but because of the fact that said nephew was gone, despite his very best efforts to prevent it.

He sighed once more, as he had done quite a lot during the last days. "Maybe we can start once more, from the beginning," he said slowly, wondering why he was still wasting his time with the Dursleys who obviously were of no help whatsoever in finding Harry Potter. "Were there any signs that he was unhappy? That he was planning to run away?"

Vernon Dursley huffed. "We took him in, we fed him, we clothed him. If he's still has the nerve to be unhappy, then he's one ungrateful little-"

"Vernon," his wife interrupted him, looking pleadingly at him to make him go silent before slowly turning back to the wizard sat in front of her. "There was...one thing..."

* * *

 **Wisteria Walk, about one week earlier**

"What's a godfather?"

The old woman looked up from where she was crouched over the cat photographs she'd been showing him. "A godfather?" she repeated, looking rather unhappy at being broken out of her reverie over the adventures of Mr Tibbles. "Why do you ask?"

Harry looked down to his feet, already regretting his question. "I just... it's what Uncle Vernon's doing," he explained slowly. "He's godfather to one of his friend's children." The Dursleys had left this morning to go to a rather ominous-sounding "christening", and, explaining to a whining Dudley why he had to come instead of watching cartoons, Aunt Petunia had mentioned his father's role in the whole affair. It had sounded very important, even though Harry had no idea what it meant. After all, little Lisa Binningham already had one father.

"Ah," Mrs Figg made, nodding. "Well, a godfather is someone who gets appointed by a child's parents to become something like an uncle. He's not a real father, of course, but he cares for the child in case...well, in case something happens to them."

"Oh," Harry made, looking down at his feet once more. Then, quieter, he said: "Is Uncle Vernon my godfather?"

There was an audible intake of breath, and when he looked up Mrs Figg seemed to have gone a little pale. She smiled at him, but it was a false smile, the one grown-ups gave children when they wanted to hide something from them. "No, my dear. I don't think he is."

"Then why do I live with him? Didn't my godfather want me?" Harry didn't know where this was coming from, but he was unable to stop himself. To dream...

Mrs Figg seemed to go even paler. "You...I'm sure he'd have loved to have you, but...Your aunt and uncle are your family. Surely your godfather thought you would be happier with them."

Harry gave her a doubtful look, but she had already returned to the pictures of her cats. "He must be rather terrible, then," Harry muttered, more to himself. "If the Dursleys are nicer to live with."

Mrs Figg didn't answer, but he heard her mutter something herself that sounded a little like "He certainly must be," before showing him yet another picture of an adolescent Mr Tibbles climbing the tree in her back garden.

Harry hadn't given the matter any more thought for the time being, but when he lay in bed that night, he couldn't get Mrs Figg's words out of his mind.

Was she right? Had his godfather given him to his aunt and uncle because he thought Harry would be happier? Had he been sad to do so?

He remembered how unhappy the Dursleys were about his presence, and thought that it was more likely Mrs Figg had been trying to make him feel better, and that this ominously absent godfather had just seen it as a convenient way to get rid of un unwanted burden. After all, surely he could've visited at least once during the past six years?

But what if she had been right?

Unable to go to sleep with that thought nagging at his mind, he sat up, careful not to hit his head on the low ceiling, and turned on the light. He would write to his godfather, he decided. He didn't know the address, much less a name, but maybe he could ask Mrs Figg, who seemed to know about him – which was rather strange, but he didn't dwell on that.

Reaching over to the school bag sitting next to his tiny bed, he extracted his pen and a notebook, quickly tearing out a page. Crouched over his pillow, he began to write.

 _Dear Mr Godfather_

He paused, wondering if that was the correct way to address this mysterious person, and how he should go on.

 _My name is Harry Potter, and I'm living with my aunt and uncle, but I don't like it very much._

Was that too rude? He made to erase the last words, but then he remembered Mrs Figg's words. If his godfather thought that Harry really enjoyed living with the Dursleys, he wouldn't come to fetch him. He decided to add a bit more, to make sure his godfather got the point.

 _They don't like me very much, too. They like Dudley much better and give him many presents, and I have to do work._

He paused again. The next part was harder to form. Wouldn't it be terribly rude to outright ask this person who he'd never met to take him in?

But then again, he _was_ his godfather, and as Mrs Figg had said that was a godfather's job.

 _If you want, I would like living with you very much. I don't know you, but you must be a nice person if my parents made you my godfather. If you don't want me to live with you, that's alright. But could you maybe write to me so I know you got my letter?_

'So I know you exist' would be more honest, but that sounded too whiny even in Harry's own ears.

 _Best wishes,_

 _Your godson Harry_

He set down the pen and read over what he had written. He felt like it was a rather poor letter, and cringed at his own messy handwriting and the creased paper. He almost wanted to start over and write it down in a neater way, but decided against it. He could still do that in the morning, once he figured out how to send it.

 _How to send it..._

He tried not to think too hard about how he would do it, because if he was honest with himself it promised to be a rather hopeless endeavour. Maybe Mrs Figg didn't actually know his godfather, but had simply assumed he had one...

He folded the letter in half and safely tucked it under his pillow before settling down into bed once more, turning off the light.

 _I'll manage_ , he swore to himself into the darkness, _Somehow I'll send that letter to my godfather._

Yet in the morning, the letter was gone. Panic gripped Harry as he was frantically groping around his mattress for the missing scrap of paper, and terrible scenarios started to form in his head.

Had Aunt Petunia found it? He could barely imagine his aunt and uncle's fury should they learn what he had written about them. Or maybe Dudley had taken it – that might be even worse, because his cousin would laugh at him, telling him how nobody would want him anyway.

He didn't dare to leave his cupboard for half the day, until hunger drove him out of his hiding place. But the expecting shouting never came, and Dudley didn't spare him more than a mean look as he made to snatch up the last of the muffins his mother had made.

Either they hadn't found the letter, or they were playing a long game, planning to bring it up later. But that wasn't the Dursleys' style, and when another day went by without anybody mentioning any letters or godfathers, Harry felt his anxiousness ebb away.

Which, of course, left the question of who _had_ taken the letter.

Because letters didn't simply vanish in thin air, did they? Harry was seven; too old to believe in Santa and mysterious wish lists that got delivered by elves. (Not that Santa had ever brought him anything anyway)

For a while he entertained the mad notion that while there certainly wasn't a Santa Claus, maybe there _was_ a magic godfather that fulfilled the wishes of orphans. Then he laughed at his own foolishness and decided that he had probably just dreamed writing the letter. After all, it was a very hopeless thing to do, as there was no way he would ever have managed to send it, even if by some miracle he found out whom to send it to.

And yet...There was a page missing in his notebook, evidently torn out in great haste...

* * *

 _So he hid in his room...judging by their appearance, nothing too unusual._

Albus sighed once more. Nothing, then. "The man who took him. Can you describe him?"

The Dursleys exchanged a short glance, shifting nervously in their seats. "There were two," Vernon Dursley finally said, his moustache quivering with rage at the memory. "They said they were friends of that...of the boy's father."

* * *

 **A rundown cottage in Yorkshire, three days earlier**

"The fourth. On his left hand."

It had been quiet in the small house since Sirius had answered the question, but judging by the wand that was now hanging loosely in Remus' hand he was certain that his chances of being cursed were almost non-existent at this point. If the werewolf had called the Aurors, they'd have been here by now, and if he planned on hexing the escaped convict himself he'd have done it.

Instead, Remus had sunken back into his armchair, his face pale as a host of emotions flickered across. Sirius left him to gather himself and curiously looked around the small cottage.

It looked almost exactly as it had the last time he'd been here, almost seven years ago. The old wooden furniture had grown a bit more shabby, there were more flecks of rust on the grate over the fireplace, and the narrow shelves were stuffed with a few more books, just as worn as their older brothers. Even the pictures on the mantelpiece were the same. Sirius winced when he saw his own face smiling back at him, from between a young James and Peter, and quickly averted his gaze, searching for anything else that might give a hint about the man now sitting in front of him.

But there wasn't anything. Surely, it all looked a bit older, a bit more worn, but there was no sign of anything new, other friends, maybe even a girlfriend or wife. It was as if life in the small cottage had simply stopped the day Sirius' own life had.

The same could not be said about Remus. Sirius knew he himself didn't look like the picture of youth – Merlin knew he didn't feel like it – but he was still shocked to see how old his friend had grown, how lined his face had gotten. He was barely twenty-eight years old, and yet there were grey streaks in his shaggy hair. And new scars, angry marks by the beast that befell him every month.

 _Because you weren't there. Because you failed him, just as you failed James. Just as you failed Harry._

"I'm sorry," he croaked finally, when Remus kept still kept silent. "It's my fault, it's all my fault...I trusted Peter, and now...it's my fault."

Finally Remus looked up, but his blue eyes were unreadable as he slowly got to his feet. Then, sluggishly, a smile crept onto his face. "You're back," he whispered hoarsely, and Sirius felt something loosen in his stomach.

They moved forwards simultaneously, and then he felt his friend's arm close around him. "You're really back," Remus said again, and as he returned the hug Sirius couldn't help but smile as well, for the first time in six years.

The despair that had housed in his mind for so long vanished, driven out by the warmth of human contact, the first contact in so many years. "I am, Moony. I'm back."

They separated, staring at each other, suddenly lost for words. There was so much he wanted to say, so many things that had to be cleared up, but right now he could only think about one thing. "I need your help," he said, reaching into the pocket of his ragged robes and extracting the piece of paper. "Harry wrote to me."

Remus' eyes widened and he opened his mouth to ask a question, but Sirius wordlessly thrust the letter at him. It didn't take the other man long to read – it wasn't a very long letter, after all – and when he had finished Remus stared at him, dumbfounded. "How...how did you get this?"

Sirius shrugged, looking around. Now that the anxiety over Remus had faded he suddenly felt terribly hungry. "Dunno. Woke up one night, found it lying in my cell."

Remus noticed his longing looks and quickly flicked his wand, turning on the kettle and summoning a half-eaten packet of biscuits. "But...Harry doesn't know about you, does he? He didn't even write your name. Somebody must've mailed it for him...and why would he even write this?"

He looked completely flustered, muttering to himself while Sirius hungrily wolfed down the food. "It's obvious, isn't it?" he said, pausing mid-chewing. "Dumbledore sent him to _Vernon Dursley_ of all people – of course he's miserable. That's no place for him to live."

Remus eyes widened when he realized the meaning of those words. "You – You want to take him away?"

Sirius snorted. "Of course I will. You read the letter."

Remus fell down into his armchair again. "Sirius – you're an escaped convict. How would you even...this is a seven year old child we're talking about!"

"A seven year old child, my _godson_ , who is miserable!" Sirius grew restless again, pacing through the narrow room. "I'll take care of him – better than those muggles, anyway. Does he even know about our world, Remus?" The look on his friend's face told him everything he needed to know. He swore, feeling his anger rise once more.

 _The Dursleys..._ what in Merlin's name had Dumbledore been thinking?

"Look," he said, still seeing doubt in Remus' eyes. "You've seen him, haven't you? Dumbledore's set the order to guard him; surely you must've glimpsed him once or twice. Did he look happy?"

Remus frowned. "How do you know about-oh. You were there, weren't you?"

Sirius nodded, remembering that terrible moment two days ago when he had almost run into Elphias Doge. "Went there straight after I got out, hoping to get there before Dumbledore's men did. Didn't work out, Order was already there. That's why I need your help. I saw you last night; you're one of the people guarding him. You must help me get him out."

Remus was silent again, but there was something flickering through his blue eyes, something Sirius remembered well from their days at Hogwarts. It was defeat in the face of yet another of James' and his mischievous schemes. "If you don't help me, I'm going on my own," he said, causing Remus to snort.

"You just told me you needed my help, otherwise you'd already have gone and done it." But the look in his eyes told Sirius that he had won. "He really didn't look very happy..."

* * *

Albus felt his stomach sink. He had suspected it, of course, after Remus hadn't shown up to report this morning, but to have it confirmed like this... he wondered how Sirius had done it, what kind of spell he had used...or had Remus always been on his side, lurking, waiting for his chance to strike?

 _It doesn't matter. All that matters is that the danger Harry's in has just doubled._

He felt his anger rise. "I told you six years ago," he said slowly, looking over to Petunia Dursley. "That the boy's _life_ depended on him living him here. And you hand him away to the first strangers you meet? When you _know_ who's out there to harm him?"

Petunia flinched, but her husband snorted indignantly. "These... _people_ were threatening us! We never asked for the brat, we took him in out of sheer kindness, but when he puts _my family_ at risk..."

"They were threatening us!" Petunia said, looking ashamed and angry at the same time. "That black one...they had a...he said he'd take the boy by force if he had to. And he _wanted_ to go..." She shivered, extracting something from her back pocket. "The other one, with the scars. He told me to give you this. He said you'd understand it wasn't our fault."

Dumbledore didn't react at once, staring at the piece of parchment that was handed to him. Was it a threat? A ransom demand for the boy? Merlin knew Remus could use the money...but then, that wasn't the sort of thing Remus would do. What, then? Slowly, he took the letter, getting to his feet.

"Thank you for your time. You will hear from me." As he made his way out of the abnormally clean house, he tucked the letter away. He would read it later. First, he would have to try and find the boy.

Now where would Black and Lupin go?

* * *

 **The cottage in Yorkshire, three days earlier (a little later)**

"So we're actually doing this...we're kidnapping a child." Remus shook his head, wondering why his life only ever oscillated between depressingly dull and absolutely bonkers. Much as he had grown to hate the dreary routine he had fallen into, it would be nice for things to actually find a middle ground for once. Instead, he was finding himself plotting to steal Harry Potter away from under the nose of Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of his age.

"Not _a_ child, _Harry_ ," Sirius corrected him, stuffing another sandwich in his mouth. The pile that Remus had made for him was shrinking at a rather impressive rate. But then, it had probably been over six years since Sirius had last eaten a proper meal. "And he _asked_ me to come and take him. It's not kidnapping if you're being invited, is it? It's more...liberating."

Remus sipped his tea, rolling his eyes. "Pretty sure it's still kidnapping if the person in question is underage," he pointed out, but quickly conceded at the irritated glare that Sirius shot his way. "We're liberating Harry, then, " he sighed. "And what do you plan to do with him once you got him out? You can't just go back to your old flat, can you? I'd offer you to stay here, but the Order will probably come looking. And it's not exactly big enough to house a child _and_ hide an escaped convict."

Sirius stopped eating, and a rather grim expression came onto his face. "That flat's not the only place I own."

It took Remus a moment to catch on. When he did, he raised his eyebrows. "Grimmauld – you're planning to take him _there_?"

Sirius shrugged defiantly. "My mother died a few years ago, Reg's dead. It's mine now. And you know how crazy my father was; there's tons of protection on the place. Half of that's banned by the ministry nowadays, but I'll clean out any dark magic before I take him there. If I add a few wards of my own, it should be safe."

Remus ran his hand through his shaggy hair, shaking his head. "I thought you had sworn never to set foot in that place again?" In fact, he vividly remembered a teenaged Sirius dancing on the Gryffindor table on his seventeenth birthday, singing a rather rude "Good riddance"-song to the confused cheers of his fellow students.

Sirius face grew harder. "Well, yeah," he said, not meeting Remus' eye. "There's a lots of things I never intended to happen." Remus swallowed, not prying any further. There was so much left unsaid between them, so many things that they needed to talk about. But now wasn't the time. Now they had to get Harry.

"Alright," he said after a few minutes of silence had passed, rising to his feet to refill the sandwich platter. "Grimmauld Place it is, then. My next shift in Little Whinging is on Sunday; that leaves tomorrow to get the house cleaned up."

Sirius got up. "We can do it now. Can't you swap with someone so we can get him tomorrow?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "You're dead on your feet, Sirius. When was the last time you slept in an actual bed? We will get him out of there soon; one more day is not going to make a difference."

Sirius looked ready to argue, but he couldn't hide the yawn that went through him. "And maybe take a shower and put on some fresh clothes," Remus added, making himself a new cup of tea. "The way you look, Harry'll probably want to stay with the muggles."

...

As Remus had suspected, there was a pair of Aurors lurking in the sparse piece of green in the middle of Grimmauld Place, their crimson robes an odd splash of colour in the otherwise dreary surroundings. They were vigilantly watching the front door, and as he and Sirius apparated on the top step of number twelve, Remus was almost certain they would see them. But Orion Black's wards held, and the Aurors didn't even flinch.

"See? Perfectly Safe." Sirius shrugged off the hood of one of Remus' old travelling cloaks and examined the door. "It's locked," he said. "Can I-?" Remus nodded, wordlessly handing him his wand, and a moment later there was a click before the heavy black door swung open. Sirius returned the wand, not without a certain look of longing – Remus made a mental note that a wand was one of the first things they'd have to acquire once the whole Harry business was done – and stepped inside.

The door swung shut behind them with an ominous thud, just as the gas lights on the walls flickered into life. For a moment they simply stood, watching the eerie scene.

"So this is where you're going to raise a seven year old?" Remus finally managed. Sirius didn't respond, but in the dim light Remus could make out his expression, a mixture of disgust and determination. It was obvious how much he hated to return to this place of so many horrible childhood memories, a place that had haunted his nightmares even when he had no longer lived there. And yet he was going to bring Harry here – and make damn well sure that this house would be home to another, much happier childhood. Remus nodded, and shrugged out of his cloak, gripping his wand more firmly. "Alright. Where do we start?"

It quickly became evident that there was no way they could make the whole house inhabitable in just one day, not even so much as a single floor. In the end they settled for cleaning out the kitchen and the downstairs study, removing the magic that was downright dangerous and barring the rooms that they had not yet cleared to prevent Harry from accidentally wandering in. They had a rather tense encounter with the house-elf, Kreacher – Sirius had hoped he'd died while he was away – who seemed less than pleased with the arrival his new master, and downright uncooperative when it came to cleaning. In the end Sirius snapped and told him to stay upstairs and out of Harry's sight. He also had a shouting match with the portrait of his mother that hung in the hallway, while Remus tried – fruitlessly – to remove it. After much swearing and screaming they at least managed to cover the portrait up with some thick curtains, shutting her up temporarily if not permanently.

"Well," Sirius said when they had retired to the newly cleaned kitchen after the gruelling day, clutching his cup of tea – Remus had had the foresight to bring mugs, teabags and milk from his own place – "The place is even viler than I remember."

Remus, who'd only once, and rather shortly, set foot in the house, couldn't help but agree. "It'll be alright," he said despite that, not wanting Sirius to lose his new-found enthusiasm. "It just needs a bit of cleaning. And you were right – it's the safest place you could find. The Aurors didn't get in yet, did they?"

Sirius nodded, but a crease appeared between his eyes. "No. It's not them I'm worried about, though. Dumbledore hasn't tried yet, has he? He knew I hated this place. But he might come back if he's desperate..." Remus felt his optimism falter somewhat. Generations of Black might have built up an impressive web of security, but Albus Dumbledore was a very impressive wizard. Remus struggled to think of many wards that might stop him. Except...

His eyes met Sirius', and he paled. "You can't..."

 _Not that one. Any charm but that._

Sirius looked just as torn as Remus felt, but he kept his gaze firm. "I'll make it work this time," he said. "I'll choose the right secret keeper, the one we should have chosen six years ago." He set down his mug. "There's no one I trust more than you, Moony. This time there won't be any mistakes."

* * *

It wasn't there. Number twelve Grimmauld Place was simply gone. Albus stared at the old brick houses, the curious gap in the numbers that up until recently had only been there in the eyes of the muggles. Now the house was missing for any wizard that looked onto it as well.

 _So this is where he is hiding._

No, not he. They.

Because the home of Remus Lupin was also empty. And not in the rushed, disorderly way of a home hastily abandoned in a fight or an abduction, or by someone under the Imperius Curse. No, when Albus had gone by there this morning the book shelves had been neatly cleaned, the wardrobe was empty and most of the dishes were missing. Even the photographs on the mantelpiece were gone.

Up until then Albus had held out in the hope that maybe it had been a misunderstanding, that Remus had gone after Sirius to stop him, to get Harry back... But he hadn't. He'd helped the murderer, the traitor that had killed their friend, plotted with him to kidnap the very child he'd sworn to protect.

Feeling a very ugly feeling rising in his stomach, Albus slowly extracted the letter from his pocket. He had no desire to read it, yet he felt it was his duty to do so. Maybe there was some sort of hint in there, a way to get the boy back...

He had to fight a sudden well of tears when he opened the parchment and found the familiar neat writing staring back at him, the hand that had written so many letters to him over the years, first as a hopeful boy, then a thoughtful teenager and later a grief-stricken young man. Now they were dead, and a traitor had taken over the meticulous writing.

 _Albus._

 _I know what you're thinking, and I know this letter probably won't change anything. But I have to try nonetheless, if only out of shame over what I am about to do to you._

* * *

 **Islington, London, two days ago**

"It feels wrong." Remus lowered his wand, staring at the thin bands of light that moments ago had engulfed the house around him, and were now fading back into him. "Using it again. After all that's happened last time."

Sirius merely nodded, emotion shining in his grey eyes as he remembered the last time he had seen that spell put in place, the day he had committed the biggest mistake of his life. "It'll hold," he said quickly, shaking himself out of his reverie. _For Harry. You're doing this for James's son._

"What will you do?" he asked, sitting back down at the table that held the remains of their rather meagre dinner. _Mental note: Go get some groceries tomorrow morning._ "I can stun you; make it look like you tried to stop me. Do you think Dumbledore will search your memories?"

Remus didn't answer immediately, staring down at the wand he still held in his hand. "No," he said after a short while. "He's...you won't have to stun me. I'm not going back to the Order."

Sirius eyes widened in realization. "You're...you're going into hiding?" He didn't know if he should be happy or concerned. "But...I mean I'd be happy for you to stay here of course – I'd actually be pretty fucked without your help, to be honest, but...what about your own life? You'd be an outcast, everyone would think you a Death Eater. _Dumbledore_ would-"

Remus sighed. "You've seen my cottage. Does it look like I've got much of a life?"

Sirius fell silent at the brutal honesty in his friend's voice, the barely concealed bitterness. He'd suspected, of course, that things weren't exactly peachy for the werewolf, but to hear him like this... "You...you must have someone," he said slowly, mentally chastising himself for being such a lousy friend that he hadn't even thought to ask about how Remus had been. "A...girlfriend, maybe? Wife?"

Remus laughed humourlessly. " _Wife_? I'd have thought Azkaban would have made you more of a realist. My kind don't date, and we certainly do not marry." He sounded so bitter that Sirius flinched physically.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "What about the others? The Order? Did you keep in touch with any of them?"

Remus shrugged. "Not really, most of us just sort of went back to our old lives – or what was left of it, anyway. Fighting a war doesn't exactly breed the kind of memories you want to get together to reminiscence about. Dumbledore writes, occasionally, offering to find jobs...Actually offered me to return to Hogwarts last week, as his DADA professor is about to resign. In case I wanted to...get somewhere safe."

The look he threw Sirius made it clear what he meant. "In case I came after you to murderize you like the homicidal psychopath that I am?"

Remus chuckled quietly. "Yeah. That's the gist. I didn't take him up on it – no offence, but I wasn't exactly scared of meeting you – but I thought about maybe going next term, if the position was still open." He shrugged. "Doesn't matter now, though. Not like I would have lasted long, anyway. It'd probably have ended in catastrophe." He chuckled again. "Imagine, that, a dark creature teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts."

His tone was light, but Sirius could see the pain that flickered over his face.

 _Great. Not only did you leave him to a life of misery when you got yourself locked away, you also manage to show up and destroy it once more the moment it starts to look up._

He wanted to protest, tell his friend to take the job, the profession he had always dreamed of... but he recognized the determined look in the werewolf's face and knew that it would be pointless. Not to mention that he hadn't been lying when he told his friend that'd he'd need his help if he wanted to build up some sort of life for Harry here. So he just nodded, a half-hearted smile on his face. "Yeah...Imagine that."

He sipped his tea slowly. "So this is it, then?" he said after they had been silent for a while. "We're going to raise Harry."

Remus smiled, his face lighting up from the melancholy look that had taken hold of it. "We are," he said. "And we're breaking about every law in the Magical World while we're at it. It'lll end in disaster, imprisonment, and probably death."

Sirius grinned. "An endeavour worthy of a Marauder, then," he said, raising his mug in salute.

Remus froze, and as soon as the words had left his mouth Sirius wished they hadn't. _Marauders...one of them is dead, and the other's responsible for all this suffering. What a glorious company we were..._

But the moment of hesitation passed, and Remus raised his own mug, clinking it against Sirius' while meeting his eyes with a determined look. "To the Marauders," he said, nodding slightly. Sirius felt his spirit lift.

 _Yes. Beaten, but not broken. We still have each other, and Prongs lives on in Harry. We will not let that traitorous rat destroy us ever again._

...

Later that night, Remus found himself on his own, still sitting in the kitchen. Sirius had retreated to the sofa in the lounge – they hadn't yet managed to free an actual bedroom, though they had at least banished the ghoul that had been living in the toilet so that Harry wouldn't be strangled while trying to brush his teeth.

Remus felt tired as well, not used to so much activity – these days he didn't actually do much but read and maybe go for a walk – but unable to get his mind to rest. Tomorrow this time, Harry would be here – the seven year old stranger that neither of them had seen since he had been barely able to walk. Would he even want to come with them? Sure, the letter had made it worryingly clear how desperate the boy seemed to be to get away from his aunt and uncle, but to just follow two strangers that showed up on his doorstep...

He felt that if Harry _did_ come with them, they'd probably teach him a few things about talking to strangers as soon as possible.

Of course, that was only provided they weren't caught on the spot. Dumbledore had not gained his reputation as the greatest wizard of his age by accident, and he had placed the utmost importance on Harry's security. Weren't they fools for even trying to outsmart the headmaster?

And what would Dumbledore do when he found Harry gone? How far would he go? Once more Remus felt guilt creep up in him. Dumbledore had done so much for him, supported him when nobody else would, cared for him with so much energy.

 _He gave you a life, and you're going to throw it back in his face._

He had suggested to Sirius that they'd try and talk to Dumbledore, convince him of Sirius innocence, but his friend had pointed out how unlikely it was that the old wizard would believe them. Even _he_ had barely believed Sirius, and he had been his brother in all but blood since they were eleven. No, unless they miraculously stumbled on Peter or some other piece of evidence, Sirius would have to remain hidden.

Remus sighed, and went over to the other side of the table where he had deposited some parchment and ink to make a grocery list for tomorrow. He retrieved a blank piece of parchment and began to write.

If he would have to torment the old man like this, he could at least try his best to give him some sort of comfort, however small. Wondering if Dumbledore would even read it, he began to write.

 _Dear Albus_

 _I know what you're thinking, and I know this letter probably won't change anything. But I have to try nonetheless, if only out of shame over what I am about to do to you._

 _I know what this looks like, and I know what you think we might do to Harry. But let me assure you that he will be safe. Neither I nor Sirius intend to harm him in any way._

 _Harry wrote to him – how he managed to, Ido not know, though we suspect accidental magic – begging to be taken away from the Dursleys. And while I respect your choice to send him to live with muggles, I have to agree with Sirius that Harry looks everything but happy. Sirius is his godfather, and it is his right to care for Harry, at least as long as Harry so wishes. We will not take him away by force, merely ask him if he wants to come. If he does, I will leave this letter with his aunt and uncle to give it to you or any Order member that might come._

 _I know it is pointless to ask you not to go looking for us, but I merely beg you to instruct the Order members to be careful should they approach any of us – Harry will be with us, and neither you nor me want him to come to harm._

 _I am deeply ashamed to betray your trust like this, and do not expect you to forgive me. But please know that Sirius is innocent. Peter Pettigrew was the secret keeper, and he betrayed James and Lily that night. He also killed those muggles, cutting off his own finger before escaping. As ridiculous as this may sound to you, it is the truth._

 _You may not believe any of this, but I felt obliged to at least try and put your mind at rest._

 _I am grateful for everything that you have done for me, and I will never forget your kindness._

 _Respectfully,_

 _Remus Lupin_

* * *

Dumbledore looked up from the letter, his gaze wandering back towards the house that wasn't there.

 _Great Merlin._ , he thought to himself as dread crept into his soul like an Dementor's icy fingers. _Remus, what have you done?_

* * *

 **Hope all those time jumps weren't too confusing ;)**

 **I thought about putting a few typos in Harry's letter, but as I'm not a native speaker, I have no clue what mistakes a seven-year-old would make. Let's just say Harry's super advanced at orthography for his age.**

 **There's gonna be more Harry in the next one, I promise. I'm currently up to chapter six with writing, but as I won't have much time to do so during the next time I might space out the updates a little. There will still be at least one or two chapters per week, though, at least for now.**

 **Also, after reading through the guidelines, I upped the rating a little. I don't plan on anything really violent to go in here, but there might be some swearing (it does feature Sirius, after all), and I'm not sure how strict is. (Am I allowed to say fuck? Did I just get myself banned?)**

 **Please tell me what you think! I have a vague direction in which this will go, but I'm still open for suggestions or wishes if there's a certain character or plot you'd like to see :)**


	3. Leaving

**Think I actually forgot it last time: I do, of course not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters.**

 **Thanks to all the lovely people who have taken the time read my story and even review, it really means a lot to me :)**

 **I changed the rating to T, as that seemed safest, and I hope it doesn't put anybody off reading it.**

 **hornet07: I get your point, yes. I got the idea from the Wichter series, actually, which I just finished, where I found it quite interesting to read. But don't worry, there aren't any more planned for the forseeable future. About the I/me: I thinks that's actually a rather common mistake even for native speakers (without wanting to look for excuses), although somebody like Remus would obviously not write that. And the intent was just plain stupidity, thanks for pointing it out :)**

 **CaseLC:I'm not sure about the time scale yet. This story, as mentioned, will not be very long; we'll not see Hogwarts, and definitely no Voldemort yet. But I have several ideas for follow ups, both one-shots and chapter stories, so I'll see how far it'll go.**

 **alix33:That was indeed dear Daedalus. :) The bird was just supposed to be a random olw that one of the Order members used to communicate. Since I didn't think Harry would have seen many, I just called it a bird. The sandwiches...seeing as this is Remus, whose culinary enthusiasm strechtes only as far as chocolate and Earl Grey, it was probably nothing too fancy. Let's say it was hummus. About Grimmauld Place, I don't think its outlay is ever clearly described. Here, I decided that thee was a small study/living room thing at the ground floor, as well as the kitchen and a smaller bathroom. There's obviously more bathrooms upstairs; but they did not get to cleaning there yet, and so obviously it's not safe to go there. Hope that cleared things up a bit :) (And thanks for all the spell checking! I corrected them immediately.** **I generally proof-read the chapters several times, but tend to miss some stuff. I really appreciate you helping me out!)**

* * *

 **Leaving**

„ _I got your letter"_

Harry merely stared. The crumpled parchment the man was holding was indeed his letter, if rather battered by rain and dirt.

How had it gotten there? And, more importantly, who was this man?

 _He's got your letter. That must mean..._

But surely it couldn't be? Magic wishes only came true in fairy tales, and only for handsome princes or beautiful princesses. Not people like Harry.

But the stranger had his letter.

"Are you my godfather?" Harry managed to ask, his heart hammering in his chest.

The stranger paused for a while, and Harry almost dreaded the answer. But then, the man nodded. "Yes," he said, in a voice that sounded a bit choked. "I'm your godfather, Harry."

 _He's real. He's actually real, and he's_ here.

 _How_ was he here?

Harry held his breath. "Are you magic?"

There was another pause in which the second man, who was still cautiously searching their surroundings as if he expected someone to jump out and attack them, threw Harry a curious look. "Yes," Harry's godfather finally said with a slight smile. "I am." When he smiled, Harry noticed, he looked a lot less corpse-like. And his eyes shone with a warmth that Harry had never seen in any grown-up's, at least not when directed at him.

Only then did he realize what the man – his godfather! – had said. _Magic_.

"Really?" he asked, his eyes growing big.

Hid godfather nodded. "Yes. You wrote me a magical letter, and I came."

 _Magic's not real_ , a voice that sounded very much like Aunt Petunia said in Harry's head, but he ignored it. "Have you...have you come to take me away?" he asked hesitantly. He didn't really want to ask, for fear that the answer might be no and this beautiful dream would end, but he couldn't stop himself.

To his utter euphoria, the man nodded. "I have...if you want to. I'm Sirius, by the way, but you can also call me Padfoot." He nodded at the man behind him, who interrupted his vigil to give Harry a kind smile, "And this is Remus. He's another friend of your parents, and he'll be living with us." Harry was so caught up in the mention of his parents – these men had actually known his _parents!_ – that he almost missed the last part. When he realized what he had heard, his breath caught.

"I...I can really live with you? I won't have to live with the Dursleys?" Something akin to anger flickered over his godfather's face, and for a moment Harry felt panic raise in him. Had he misunderstood something? Did the other man feel insulted at the notion of having to care for Harry? After all, if his aunt and uncle were anything to go buy, caring for Harry was a nasty burden that nobody would want to shoulder.

But then the man stepped forward, and Harry found himself wrapped in the first hug he could remember. "Of course you can, Harry. You won't ever have to go back to them."

"Sirius, we should hurry," the other man interrupted them, as Harry was still trying to come to terms with the sudden burst of happiness that invaded his senses. He was leaving. He was actually _leaving._

Sirius released him and got back up, but offered his hand to Harry with a broad smile. As he took it, Harry wondered why he had ever thought the man looked scary. Those grey eyes were the friendliest he had ever seen. "Ready to get your stuff, Harry?" he said, raising his free hand to knock on the front door. Harry felt fear grip his entrails.

He didn't want to see the Dursleys. They always found a way to spoil anything that would make Harry happy, and surely they'd find a way to end this wonderful dream as wel; tell Sirius that he couldn't take him, that they'd call the police...

Sirius seemed to have read his mind. "Don't worry, Harry. They won't stop Remus and me. We're magic, remember? Evil aunts and uncles can't do anything to us."

Slowly, Harry nodded, gripping his godfather's hand more firmly. "Okay."

The older man pressed the doorbell, and as he listened to the shrill noise fade away into the house and waited with bated breath for his aunt to open the door, Harry could swear he'd heard Sirius mutter something like " _I'm going to kill those bloody muggles._ "

The door opened, and it wasn't Petunia but Vernon who stood in front of them. At the sight of so much scruffiness in in his own front lawn he gave an odd little jump, before his face reddened in anger. "What- we're not buying anything," he snarled, making to grab for Harry's shoulder."Come inside, boy, how-"

"And I'm not selling anything," Sirius interrupted as he protectively stepped in front of Harry, his voice suddenly a great deal colder. "We're here to take Harry with us. Just show me to his room so we can pack."

Vernon was silent for a moment, then burst into an even louder rant. "How dare you-" At this point the other man, Remus, stepped forward, holding an odd little stick in his hand. "Please do be quiet, Mr Dursley; the neighbours will talk. We will take Harry, and you will show us to his room. Don't make us force you; it's not going to end well for you." His voice was perfectly pleasant, but the sight of him – or maybe the odd stick, as his small black eyes seemed to fixate on it – made Uncle Vernon pale and stumble back a few steps. Sirius didn't waste a moment, shoving Harry inside before following, as Remus quickly shut the door behind them. "Come on, we'll get your things, Harry. Remus'll handle the muggles."

He made for the stairs but hesitated when Harry didn't follow. "Erm..." Harry started, slowly walking over to the cupboard. "It's...this is where I sleep," he muttered, his face reddening when his godfather paled. What would Sirius think of him? After all, what sort of strange boy slept in a cupboard?

As it happens, the magic godfather got very angry. "YOU MADE HIM LIVE IN A FUCKING WARDROBE!?" he shouted, swirling around to face Uncle Vernon with a murderous look on his face, his fists balled. "YOU-"

"Sirius, calm down-"

"Vernon, what's-" There was a small squeak as Aunt Petunia saw the chaos that had engulfed her hallway.

"Sirius, his things! Now!"

Sirius hesitated for a moment, looking like he would very much like to punch Uncle Vernon, but then turned around, yanking open the cupboard door. "Alright, Harry," he said, his voice friendly once more but audibly stressed, as shouting erupted behind them. "Here's a bag – " he pulled a rather small looking rucksack from his back, that Harry doubted would fit more than one jumper. But he merely smiled. "Don't worry, it's magic, too. Your things will fit easily. Just give me everything you want to take with you."

Harry nodded, his head swimming. This was all very surreal. The shouting in the hallway – although it had seemed to quiet down a bit, as the Dursleys were reduced to angry muttering, probably at the sight of the odd stick – and the strange man that was his godfather, crouching in his cupboard and stuffing Dudley's baggy old clothes into his magic rucksack.

When they emerged back into the corridor, all three Dursleys were there, staring at him in silent anger and obviously a lot of fear. "Do you want to say goodbye, Harry?" Remus asked, his stick still pointed at Uncle Vernon. Harry quietly shook his head, not looking at his aunt and uncle.

Sirius hesitated, and for a moment Harry thought he really was going to punch his uncle, but then he nodded. "Alright, then, let's go."

He walked out of the door hurriedly, not looking back as his hand closed firmly around Harry's. They turned left, towards Magnolia Crescent. "Where are we going?" Harry asked, wondering for a moment what on earth he was doing – going with strangers was something all the teachers had always warned them against, after all.

But Sirius' next words blew his worry away in an instant. "We're not going," he said, grinning down at Harry rather mischievously, his anger at the Dursleys apparently forgotten. "We're flying." When Harry merely gaped at him, he barked a happy laugh. "Told you I was magic, didn't I?"

They had reached the little park. The playground was deserted, as it was almost dinner time, but Sirius ignored the swings and headed straight for a group of trees. Before Harry could ask what he was doing, he bent down next to a thick bush, and extracted something from under it. "And this is what we're flying on."

Harry stared at the object, which appeared to be a broom. A rather old one at that, nothing like the modern plastic ones Aunt Petunia used. "That's a..."

"Broomstick," Sirius finished, nodding as if it was the most natural thing. "Not a very fast one, mind you, but it'll get us where we need to go."

Harry wanted to ask further, but at that moment Remus reappeared, striding over to them with long, hurried steps. "All clear," he told Sirius, before smiling at Harry. "Ready for some more magic?"

Harry's eyes grew big. "More magic?" he asked.

Remus nodded. "I'll have to hide you and Sirius, so the other, non-magic people won't see you. Don't worry; it's not going to hurt. I'll do Sirius first, so you can watch." He lifted his odd stick again, and, in a rather odd-looking gesture, tapped it onto the other man's head, mumbling something that Harry didn't catch. What he did catch, however, was his godfather suddenly starting to vanish, fading from the head downwards until he was nothing more than a blurry shadow.

"What-ah!" Harry couldn't help but let out a little squeal when Sirius' ghostly hand touched his head.

"Don't worry, I'm perfectly fine," Sirius said, and Harry felt himself blush for acting like a scared girl.

"Are you ready to try it?" Remus asked kindly, lifting his wand once more. "I promise it's not going to hurt. And I'll turn you back to normal as soon as we're there." Harry swallowed, not feeling ready at all, but forced himself to nod. He didn't want the two magic godfathers to change their minds and bring him back to the Dursleys.

The stick touched his head, and he shivered as he felt something cold run down his head. But Remus hadn't lied; it didn't hurt one bit. And when Harry lifted a blurry hand in front of his eyes, he couldn't help but grin, as excitement crept back into him. "Wow."

He felt Sirius' hand on the back of his head once more. It was still strange, not being able to see him properly, but now that he was also invisible, Harry felt weirdly connected to him, and it wasn't scary at all. Until Sirius lifted up the broomstick, holding it out in front of Harry. "Come on, then, climb up."

Harry paused. Climb up? Like...like a witch?" he asked, hesitantly.

The disembodied voice chuckled. "Exactly, Prongslet. Like a witch." Harry felt rather ridiculous, but obeyed, and sat on the broomstick, cautiously holding on to it. Sirius climbed on after him, reaching around him to hold the tip of the broomstick so that Harry found himself hugged by him once more. Some of his nervousness faded, until Remus raised his stick again, and with another tap the broomstick vanished as well.

"What about you?" Harry asked when the other man made no move to climb onto the invisible broomstick after them – or get his own one, as there really wasn't any room left – but Remus merely smiled.

"I'll meet you there, Harry. Safe journey."

He stepped back, and Harry felt Sirius arms tense. "Ready?" Harry wasn't sure he was, but he nodded anyway. "Hold on tight, then," Sirius said, and then there was as sudden movement as he jumped into the air, and then...

Harry couldn't supress the shocked cry that left him as he found himself flying – _flying_ – into the air, the playground and the houses quickly vanishing below them as they soared higher and higher. "Everything alright?" he heard Sirius voice behind him, and he felt his godfather press closer against his back, as if he was afraid Harry might fall off.

But despite all the strangeness that surrounded him, despite the fact that he couldn't even see the broomstick – a _broomstick_ – that was holding them in the air, and despite the fact that he had only met this man half an hour ago, Harry found himself grinning for the first time in a long while.

He was free.

He was finally leaving the Dursleys, flying away on a magical broomstick to live with his magical godfather. If he hadn't felt the cold wind tearing at his hair, and a small splinter of wood boring into one of his hands, he would have been convinced he was merely dreaming – and maybe he still was, but he found himself not caring right now, because this dream was so fantastical, so mad and wonderful, that even the prospect of waking up seemed small and insignificant.

For the first time in six years, Harry Potter felt truly happy.

* * *

"We actually did it." Remus looked at the sleeping boy curled up on the sofa, and couldn't help but smile, despite his tiredness.

Sirius nodded slowly, also watching Harry. "He looks so much like him." His voice sounded almost choked, and Remus realized once more that while he had had six years to come to terms with Lily and James's deaths, Sirius' life had been effectively put on hold in the darkness of Azkaban. To Sirius, they had died mere days ago. He discretely looked away. Brothers they might be, but Sirius hated for anybody to him cry. And what could he say, really? There were no words to lessen the utter despair of having one's word torn apart so horribly. Remus knew, because he had lived through it himself.

"Lily's eyes, though," he said instead, smiling once more. "When he saw you transform that teapot...he looks just like she did when he laughs." Sirius didn't answer for a while, and Remus left him to his silent tears for a while, watching the boy as he slept.

Had they done the right thing? He wondered what Lily and James would have to say about it. Surely neither of them would have wanted him to grow up with those vile muggles?

 _They probably wouldn't have wanted him to grow up to a life on the run, constantly hiding, constantly in fear of being blasted to smithereens by some overzealous Auror..._

But they were safe, here, or as safe as they could be.

Despite the fact that so far, only three rooms in the whole house were inhabitable, and that Harry was sleeping on the couch not because he had fallen asleep listening to stories of magic, but because there simply wasn't a bed for him right now.

"So what's next?" he asked after a while, when the other man had stopped trembling.

"Gonna need a wand," Sirius said at once, a fresh wave of determination in his voice. Remus wasn't a very skilled Legilimens, but he knew what silent mantra had given his friend strength. It was the same that kept playing in his own head.

 _For Harry._

"I don't suppose there's an old one lying around in here?" he asked.

Sirius shook his head. "Doubt it; they did it the old way, burning them after death. And I don't think I could stomach using my parents' wands anyway."

Remus sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "Diagon Alley then?" he said dryly. "An escaped murderer, a werewolf turned traitor, and about twenty sickles in funds. Might get a bit tricky, even for us."

"I got money," Sirius said, fishing in his pocket for something before holding up a small silver key. "Found it while we were cleaning. Black family vault is mine now; and as far as I know that's also were they put my stuff when I was... sent away." His voice trembled a little at the memory of his imprisonment, and Remus sensed that there was still a lot they had to talk about. But for now, Sirius quickly regained his composure. "My wand should be in there; if they haven't destroyed it. But I never got a trial, so I don't think they got around to it."

Remus scratched his head. "So you're just going to march into Gringotts like that?" Sirius shrugged. "Gonna go in disguise, obviously. But the goblins generally don't care, do they? They'd let Voldemort himself in if he presented a key."

"It's changing, though," Remus interjected. "The Ministry's been trying to get them to disclose information about your vault." Seeing Sirius' surprised look, he added, slightly apologetic, "Heard it at an Order meeting, a few days ago. When we were discussing on how to protect Harry from you. Moody told us how they were struggling to get the goblins to cooperate."

Instead of worrying, Sirius smiled reminiscently. "Moody's still around? Geez, would've thought someone managed to blow him up by now." He grinned. "Or he himself, more likely." But he grew serious almost immediately. "That means they haven't gotten in yet, though," he said sitting up straighter. "We should go there first thing tomorrow morning. Get the wand and whatever else useful is down there, and some muggle money while we're at it. There'll be confusion once they find out Harry's gone – they might not even know yet; your shift ends at midnight, doesn't it? – so we have to act quickly. I'll go-"

"No," Remus said quickly, feeling Sirius' energy flood over to him. "I'll go. You, they'll hex on sight should they figure out who you are. But you're right; they'll only know in a few hours that Harry's gone, or that I'm involved at all. I'll have much better chances to go unnoticed." Sirius made to protest, but Remus quickly continued. "And if something does go wrong, it's you that Harry needs. You're his godfather. Don't abandon him."

"I'm not..." Sirius started, but fell silent. _For Harry._ "Alright," he grumbled, "But send me a Patronus if anything goes wrong."

Remus nodded, yawning. He hadn't even realized how tired he was until now. "I will," he said. "But don't leave the house before I'm back."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Azkaban takes away your happiness, not your intelligence," he said sarcastically, but the expression quickly fell, as awkwardness returned once more at the mention of all that was unsaid. Remus wondered if now was the time to talk about it, but Sirius just cleared his throat, quickly answering his unspoken question.

"Oh, bloody hell," he grumbled, staring at the floor darkly. "It sucked horribly, but I got out. And I don't want to talk about it."

Remus didn't pry further, instead getting to his feet, gathering up their empty mugs. "I'm glad you did," he said quietly once he was at the door, smiling back at his long lost friend. "I missed you, Padfoot."

Sirius looked up from his dark brooding, a small smile creeping onto his face as well. "Missed you too, Moony."

* * *

 **The chapters will be a bit shorter from now on (I generally aim for about 3k words), but so far I'm still comfortably ahead, so there'll be another update this weekend. (I actually started getting up an hour early so I could write a little before uni. If that's not commitment, I don't know what is ;)**

 **Care to leave a review?**


	4. Coming Home

**I apologize for the wait; I meant to upload it further but I was travelling and only had my crappy old laptop with me which can't really do anything but crash these days.**

 **Thanks to all those that read and reviewed, I am humbled by your support! :)**

 **hornet07 suggested I change the format so that only one person speaks per paragraph, so I tried it with this one. I'm not sure it really makes it easier, as the format of is generally different from an actual book, but I'll leave it up to you to tell me what you like best :)**

 **kk: Not to a large extend, no. I don't intend to send Harry back to live with them or have any Dursley-related flashbacks, so it'll only ever be mentioned, and I'll be sticking to what Rowling wrote and not add anything extreme. Although I guess making a child live in a cupboard is pretty extreme in itself...**

 **CedricDiggory01: She'll certainly be making an appearance, but I always viewed her as pretty loyal to Dumbledore, so she won't be going against him. I'm quite fond of her character, though, so she'll probably have some more guest appearances as the story continues.**

 **alix33: I did not mean to say that sleeping on a couch itself is bad but rather the circumstances, as Remus was pondering in that sentences. The reason he feels guilty is that Harry didn't choose to sleep there but had to because there was no bed for him, and Remus has always been a bit touchy when it comes to making others share his poverty. If I had written that part from Harry's or Sirius' POV, they wouldn't have minded at all.**

* * *

 **Coming Home**

When Harry woke up, it took him a moment to remember the fantastic dream he had had. Very strange people had appeared in it, and a magic godfather who had taken him away. He had flown on a broomstick and landed in a dark, gloomy house full of magic. And then the magic godfathers – no, _wizards_ , as they had explained – had told him that his parents had also been wizards, and that he, Harry, was a wizard, too, who had sent that letter to them by magic. That here was a whole world full of magic, and that he would never have to go back to the Dursleys ever again.

He sighed, keeping his eyes closed to linger a little longer. It had all felt so real. But it was a dream, it was always a dream, and soon he would have to open his eyes and find himself back in his cupboard.

 _Sirius,_ he remembered. His godfather's name had been Sirius. A strange name, just as the other man's... _Remus_ , that had been it. Remus Lupin. He'd made Harry invisible with his magical stick. His wand, Harry remembered. He'd also made him hot chocolate, the first time in his life that Harry had drunk it.

They had been strange, but very nice. Sirius had shown him some more magic, making the tea pot dance across the table with short stumpy legs before transforming it into a little bird that fluttered through the kitchen; until Remus told him that they'd probably need it at one point and Sirius had made the teapot reappear.

 _But it was a dream._ There were no magic godfathers, or flying brooms, or portraits that moved. He wasn't a wizard, but Harry, a scrawny boy in a dark cupboard that would probably be late to school if he didn't get up soon. Forcing himself not to cry at the idea of leaving behind the enticing dream world, he opened his eyes.

And stared up at a dark grey ceiling that was far too high to be his cupboard. It was also too bright, sunlight filtering through the heavy green curtains...Curtains? Since when did his cupboard have windows, let alone curtains?

And the thing he was lying on didn't feel like his bed. It was dark green satin, and there was a heavy woollen blanket draped around him. His heart hammering in his chest, he slowly turned his head. It was the same room he remembered from his dream, wood panelled walls, tall, dark book shelves and a very old looking fireplace.

He slowly extracted an arm from the blanket that covered him – that somebody must've placed over him, actually, as he did not remember how it had gotten there – and pinched his cheek. It hurt, but the room stayed.

 _It's real._

The realization hit him with the force of a thunder bolt.

 _It's_ really _real._

His chest felt like it was about to explode with joy, and he had to fight the impulse to jump up and dance and sing with joy.

 _No more Dursleys._

 _Sirius is real, you've got a magical godfather and you're going to live with him._

He managed to supress the urge to shout out, mainly so that said godfather wouldn't just send him home again. Aunt Petunia had always been terribly angry if Harry was too noisy. Instead, he just stared at the ceiling, grinning until his face hurt.

When the euphoria had died down a little, he slowly sat up, looking around once more. Neither Sirius nor Remus were to be seen. There was an old mattress on the floor next to the fireplace, a blanket draped neatly over it. Next to it sat another mattress, an on it, partially covered, lay...

...an enormous black dog, snoring peacefully.

Harry stared.

He didn't have much experience with dogs – Aunt Petunia had trouble tolerating Dudley's pet turtle; she'd never dream of letting anything with so much potential for dirt into her house – apart from the terrifying visits of Aunt Marge and her bulldog, Ripper, who'd chased Harry up a tree last year.

But this dog, while much larger than Ripper, seemed rather harmless. It had scruffy black fur and looked a bit skinny, its large paws twitching slightly while it slept. Harry guessed that were it to stand up, its shoulders would be almost level with Harry's head, and yet he didn't feel any sort of fear, just fascinated curiosity.

What sort of dog slept in a bed?

And why hadn't he seen it last night? Sirius hadn't said anything about owning a dog; in fact, he had told Harry that they'd only just moved in here themselves. Maybe the dog had lived here before?

He wondered if he should get up and look for his godfather. He had been warned not to wander around the house on his own, as the previous owners had been rather nasty people who might have left behind something dangerous, but he thought that he could probably remember the way to the kitchen.

Before he could come to any sort of conclusion, a violent tremor went through the dog's body, and its eyes snapped open. Harry froze, his breath catching in his throat. The dog was staring directly at him, and Harry stared back. Then he remembered that one shouldn't look dogs in the eyes because it would make them attack you, and he quickly looked down at the dog's paws.

Should he call for help? The dog didn't seem very aggressive right now.

The dog shifted, and changed into a man.

Harry gave a shocked little squeak, nearly tumbling off the sofa in the process. Sirius said up, shaking a little as if to get rid of the fur that had clung to him mere moments before. "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Harry simply stared at him. "You- you were a dog," he said, rather unnecessarily. But he couldn't help himself. Even after all the magic he'd witnessed last night, being hit my something this mad and impossible without warning made his head spin a little.

Sirius smiled slightly, slowly getting to his feet. "Yes. I do that sometimes. But if you don't like dogs, I'll stop."

Harry quickly shook his head. "No! I just... Can Remus do that, too? Can I do it?" He _had_ been told he was a wizard, after all.

Sirius paused for a moment, and Harry felt like he was debating whether to tell him something. Then his godfather shook his head. "No, Remus can't turn into a dog. You can't either, yet. It's quite difficult to learn, actually. I can teach you once you're older, if you'd like to. Although your animal might not be a dog."

"My animal?" Harry repeated.

Sirius nodded, slipping the robes that were laying next to his mattress over his shoulders. "Every wizard has a different Animagus form. Animagus, that's what I am. I can change into my animal," he explained, seeing the question on Harry's face. "Your Dad, he...he was a stag." At the last words, his smile faltered somewhat, and his voice changed. Harry barely noticed.

"My father could do that, too?" he asked, wide-eyed.

Sirius nodded once more, the smile returning as he walked over to Harry and sat next to him on the couch, ruffling his hair. "He sure did, Prongslet. We used to sneak out at night and go on adventures together."

Under different circumstances he might have jumped at the chance of listening to the adventures of his magical dog-godfather and his stag-real -father, but now all he could think of was how little he knew about his parents. If the Dursleys hadn't told him about magic, what else had they left out?

"Were you there?" he asked quietly, looking down at his bare feet. "When they had the accident."

"Accid...?" Sirius started, before Harry felt him tense next to him. "What exactly did your Aunt and Uncle tell you about your parents' deaths?" he asked, and Harry flinched at the anger that laced his voice.

But he could sense that it wasn't directed at him. "Just...just that they had a car accident," he mumbled, looking down at his bare feet. "And they died." There was a moment of silence, and as Sirius wrapped one arm around him, he could feel his godfather tremble.

"That's...that's not was happened," Sirius finally said, his voice sounding rather choked again. "They didn't even own a car..." He stared off into the distance before turning to Harry once more. "Maybe we should wait till Remus is back...I shouldn't tell you like this."

But Harry shook his head vigorously. Yesterday he had been so caught up in his excitement and wonder that the notion that Sirius and Remus had actually _known_ his parents – even more, had apparently been their closest friends – had completely slipped his mind. But now that he knew the Dursleys had lied to him in this, too, he just wanted answers.

"Please tell me," he said pleadingly. "I want to know how they died."

Sirius heaved a sigh, rubbing his free hand over his face. "Alright, kid. You deserve to know, I guess."

* * *

"There was a bad wizard once," Sirius began, wondering how on earth he should explain the concept of Voldemort to a seven-year-old. _If_ he should explain it, really, as it wasn't exactly a topic suited for such a small child. But then it wasn't like he had much of a choice. Harry had been lied to for most of his life; he deserved some honesty for a change.

Even if it might result in nightmares and Remus shouting at him for being an irresponsible guardian.

"His name was Voldemort, and he was very evil; he hated people that weren't magic – muggles, like your aunt and uncle – or whose parents had been muggles, like your mother. He had a lot of followers who thought the same, and he quickly got powerful." Harry stared at him with wide green eyes, eyes that looked so much like Lily that it hurt. Sirius forced himself to go on. "But there were people fighting against him. Not just the ministry – that's our government – but also a secret organization, led by Albus Dumbledore, the only wizard that Voldemort was ever afraid of. It was called the Order or the Phoenix; and your parents were part of it.

Harry's eyes grew big. "My parents fought Voldemort?"

Sirius nodded, clearing his throat when his voice started to choke. "They did," he said, "And they were da- _very_ good at it. But Voldemort wanted to kill them for it, and they had to hide." Guilt and grief started to overcome him, but he forced himself to look at the frightened boy in front of him, the boy who was a perfect copy of James.

 _He deserves to know._

"There's a spell," he croaked on, clutching Harry more firmly. "It hides a house, so that nobody can find it, even if they know where it is. Only one person can reveal it, the Secret Keeper."

 _You killed them. It's your fault they're dead. If only you'd..._

Harry. He could cry later, for now he had to be strong.

"I was going to do it," he said, quieter now. Harry seemed to sense the tension, for he ducked into the couch, closer to Sirius. "Be their Secret Keeper. But at the last moment, we changed our mind. Everyone knew it would be me, and Voldemort would hunt me. So another friend of your parents' did it...Peter Pettigrew." Even just speaking the name made him want to crush something. "He was the fourth in our group; he was also an Animagus. A rat. I thought it was very clever, because nobody would ever suspect him."

 _How witty he had felt, blinded by his own arrogance. Not seeing that the vile traitor was right in front of him._

"What happened?" Harry asked timidly when he didn't go on.

Sirius closed his eyes. "He betrayed them to Voldemort," he said finally. Speaking it out aloud was a thousand times worse than just thinking about it. It made it so much more real. "He had been spying for him for quite a while, and we...I...we didn't know it was him. I suspected Remus, and he suspected me...and we didn't notice."

He felt tears prick at his eyes, and blinked them away. The story wasn't yet through.

"So...so Voldemort found them and...killed them?" Harry asked quietly.

Sirius hugged the boy closer, and nodded. "Yeah. They fought him, but he was too strong. And he wanted to kill you too, but somehow...they died to protect you, and that meant he couldn't kill you, even though he tried. That's how you got that scar." He lifted his free hand, tracing the mark on Harry's forehead. "You were the only one to ever survive that."

Harry swallowed, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Sirius turned around so he could face him fully. "It's okay to cry, Prongslet," he said softly. "I do, too. I miss them so much." He drew Harry towards him and as the boy buried his face in his robes, he felt tears run down his own face. He hadn't brought himself to cry in front of Remus, but somehow, with Harry it was alright.

He wasn't sure how long they sat there, drawing comfort from each other's company. The ancient clock on the mantelpiece was broken, but judging by the sunbeams filtering through the curtains it had to be at least eleven. He wondered were Remus was, and what was taking him so long.

 _It's alright. He'd have sent a Patronus if there was trouble._

Except he wouldn't have, because he was Remus and he wouldn't want Sirius to risk his life for him, the self-sacrificing git.

Before his worry could solidify, Harry lifted his head, rubbing his red eyes surreptitiously. "What...what happened to Voldemort?" he asked. "And...Peter Pettigrew?"

"Voldemort vanished," Sirius said slowly, wondering how much to tell Harry. He'd only learned most of the story during the last few days, from Remus. "Your parents' sacrifice meant he couldn't touch you, and it almost destroyed him when he tried. He's not dead – I'm not sure he even _can_ die – but he lost all of his power. He's just a shadow now, barely existing. He can't harm anyone anymore."

 _For now_. Some day, he would return, and some day rather sooner than later, he'd have to tell Harry about the prophecy. But not today.

"And Peter..." he paused. "I tried to hunt him down," he said slowly. "But he tricked me. We were in a street full of muggles when I finally caught him, and suddenly he shouted about how I had betrayed Lily and James. And then he blew up the street, and-" He paused. _Are you honestly about to tell a seven-year-old about thirteen people being ripped apart and a man cutting off his own finger?_ , a voice in his head that sounded rather like Remus said.

But now that he had started, he could hardly back out. "He cut off his finger and transformed into a rat to escape, so it would look like he had died as well," he finished quieter, relieved when Harry grew paler but did not break out in horrified sobs. "Everybody thought I had done it," he continued quickly. "Because we had told everybody that I'd be secret keeper, and so it looked like I had betrayed your parents. I was put in prison."

Harry swallowed. "But...but you were innocent!" he said.

Sirius couldn't help but chuckle darkly. "Was I? It was me who suggested using Peter. It basically _is_ my fault..." He couldn't help the tears that came into his eyes, but Harry surprised him.

"It's not," he said, voice much firmer than would be expected of a seven-year-old. "You didn't know he was evil."

Despite his grief, Sirius felt a smile creep onto his face at this fierce defence. "How did you escape?" Harry asked curiously.

Sirius forced himself to let go of the guilt for now. "I transformed into a dog," he said. "The guards at the wizard prison don't have eyes; they only sense feelings, and so they didn't know. I managed to squeeze through the bars."

Harry frowned. "If it was that easy, why didn't you escape sooner? Why did you-" he lowered his head and didn't continue, but Sirius could guess the last words. _Why did you let me stay with those terrible people?_

He winced. "I...I felt like I deserved it," he said honestly. "And I thought you were happy; I didn't know you were living with them. I thought that maybe Remus had taken you in, or that Dumbledore had found someone else..."

"Oh," Harry made, looking marginally happier but still not meeting his eyes. "I thought that maybe...that maybe you didn't want to live with me."

Sirius felt his throat constrict. "Don't you ever think that, Prongslet," he said, putting a hand under Harry's chin to look him in the eyes. "You're the most important person in the whole wide world to me, understand?" Harry still looked a bit doubtful, but nodded slowly, and Sirius smiled at him encouragingly. "I came as soon as I got your letter, didn't I?" he said, hugging Harry once more. "I'm your magic godfather, and I'm not letting you down ever again."

* * *

When Remus returned, he found Sirius and Harry still sitting on the sofa, crouched over a book of sorts. As he got closer, Remus recognized his old photo album. "...and that's why your Dad had blue hair for the rest of the week." Sirius was finishing some story, much to Harry's amusement, when he looked up and noticed Remus.

"Moony!" he jumped to his feet, almost sending the book flying. "What in Merlin's name took you so long? It's..." he craned his neck, before realizing that he didn't actually have a clue what time it was since the only clock in the room was broken (although at least it no longer shot bolts at them as it had done when they had first arrived, which was some sort of comfort).

"Quarter past twelve," Remus supplied, calmly setting down the box he was carrying next to the ones with his own things that they had taken from his cottage the morning before. "And it went fine, don't worry. They looked at me a bit funny, and I had to bribe them, but I got in." He fished in his coat pocket, extracting Sirius' wand. "Here you go."

There was a short hesitation before Sirius gingerly took it, and Remus quickly turned to Harry when he saw the emotion flickering over his face. Deciding to give his friend a moment to compose himself, he said: "What do you say to breakfast, Harry? Or lunch, I suppose – you must be starving. Toast and eggs sound good?"

Harry, throwing Sirius a short look, nodded, and followed him into the kitchen. "So what did you two get up to?" Remus asked pleasantly as he set about resizing the bags of groceries that he had bought and searched the cupboards for a pan that didn't look like it had last been used in the Middle Ages or harboured a host of illegal spells that would make the Restricted Section at Hogwarts look like a collection of children's stories.

Harry didn't answer at once, watching in fascination as the pan began to scrub itself in the sink. "Sirius told me about Voldemort," he said finally, and Remus nearly dropped the eggs he'd been holding as he fought for the smile to stay on his face.

"Oh," he said, wondering exactly _how much_ Sirius had told him.

"And about Peter, and how he got sent into prison," Harry continued.

 _So pretty much everything, then. Merlin's beard..._

"Ah," Remus said. "Yes." He hesitated. "So you know we're hiding from the government then, don't you?" he finally asked, just as Sirius reappeared, his wand now safely tucked away in his pocket.

Harry glanced at his godfather, then nodded. "Yeah. 'Cos they think he killed those people and betrayed my parents."

The smile on Sirius face got somewhat strained when he walked over to them. "That's right," he said. "And it means that we can't just wander about on the street. We can only go out in disguise, and we have to be very careful."

Harry frowned. "But...can't you just tell them? You're not evil. Won't people see that? You didn't try to kill me, after all."

Sirius' gaze flickered to Remus, and he nodded slightly. "The thing is...I don't have any proof," Sirius explained. "Nobody knows that Peter can change into a rat; they all think he's dead. And they _might_ believe me, but that's quite a risk to take. Because if they don't, they'll send me back to prison." _Or worse_ , but Remus was glad Sirius didn't mention that to Harry.

"I can try, if you want to," Sirius said quickly, when Harry didn't say anything. "I'd understand if you don't want to be locked up in here with us all the time. It won't be an easy life." His face was rather pale at the thought of facing the Dementors once more, but Remus knew that should Harry ask, he would hand himself over without a second of hesitation.

Harry frowned again. "But...but if they send you back to prison, won't I have to go back to the Dursleys?"

Sirius shared another uncomfortable look with Remus, before nodding. "I suppose so...that's what Dumbledore thinks is best."

Harry didn't hesitate any further. "Then I don't want you to," he said at once, a look of panic coming onto his face. "I don't mind being in here. It's a very big house, isn't it?"

Sirius smiled, sincerely for the first time since he had entered the kitchen. "That it is, Prongslet," he said, reaching out to ruffle Harry's hair. "And as soon as we've had breakfast, we'll go and find a room for you, what do you say?"


	5. One Step Ahead

**One Step Ahead**

Despite the frightening story that Sirius had told him, Harry soon found his spirits soar. Living with Sirius and Remus was just so exciting, exuberating and downright wonderful that he thought it must be impossible for a person to grin so much in just one day.

For once, there had been breakfast – or lunch, really, but neither Sirius nor Remus seemed very picky with the terminology, something that Aunt Petunia would never have accepted. Harry wasn't sure about the pumpkin juice (Remus had promised to let him choose what type of juice to buy next time), but apart from that, the meal had been the best he had ever eaten.

Not that Aunt Petunia didn't cook well, but Harry had only ever been allowed the tiniest of portions, and only gotten the leftover greens that Dudley wouldn't eat. But now he could stuff his face with all the toast, eggs, bacon and beans that he could fit in his mouth (he had to fight Sirius for the sausages), and didn't even have to do the dishes afterwards.

Instead, Remus had just waved his wand to make them scrub themselves. After that, they had started exploring the other rooms. Despite Sirius' and Remus' warnings and their insistence that he kept close to them at all times, it was the most exciting afternoon Harry had ever experienced. While certainly dark and sometimes downright scary (he had almost fallen down the stairs when a portrait in the hallway started screaming at him), the house full of magic was utterly fascinating.

And it was _big_.

If the Dursleys hadn't been so horrified by everything magic, they might have been impressed with it, as it clearly had belonged to a wealthy family. There were at least four storeys as far as Harry could see, and while he had thought the study where they had slept rather grand, it had nothing on the big drawing room on the first floor. There even was a library full of heavy, ancient looking books, although Remus had told him not to open any of them unless he was with one of the adults.

The rooms were inhabited by all sorts of strange creatures, Most of them were pests, as Sirius explained, although Harry found them rather endearing – until a nasty, moth-like insect bit him in the finger. From that point onward he felt rather less sympathetic whenever Sirius or Remus blasted one or the other creature out of the air with coloured jets from their wands.

The most exciting part came when Sirius and Remus told him to pick out a bedroom for himself. Having spent his whole life in a cupboard – and even that wasn't really _his_ , as Dudley used to sneak in to steal or break his things – the concept of having a whole (enormously-sized, at that) room for himself, and even being allowed to _choose_ which one he wanted, was almost overwhelming.

Mistaking his silence, Sirius was quick to point out that they could also clean up some rooms in the higher storeys if he wanted a bit of privacy, but Harry hastily shook his head. While enjoyable when he was safely with Sirius and Remus, he could imagine the house might be a great deal scarier at night.

"No, I really like this one," he said, pointing to the middle one, hoping that Sirius would take one of the rooms next to it so he'd be close by, but not wanting to say so outright for fear of looking like a baby. He was almost eight, after all.

If Sirius suspected anything, he didn't say so. "Good choice," he said, nodding, as he surveyed the room they had cleaned earlier. It was a rather nice room, with two double windows that looked out on the street below. "Guess we'll have to start renovating, then." He rolled up his sleeves, grinning. "Alright, Prongslet. What colour do you want your walls?"

Harry had often wondered what it would be like to be as spoilt as Dudley, to have every wish he dared to utter immediately granted, but not even in his wildest dreams the wish-granter in question had been a wizard.

The walls were only a start. As he flicked through different colours and told Harry to say stop at the one he liked (because Harry hadn't brought himselfto actually demand any on his own accord), he listed all the things that they would have to buy. "You'll want a new bed, obviously. People have actually died in that one; I'm not having you sleep in that. And a desk would be nice as well, I guess, and maybe a bookshelf – do you like to read, Harry? – And a new wardrobe, of course. And we could put up some pictures, if you like..."

In the end Harry settled on a deep red on one of the walls and white on the rest. Sirius wanted to go out and buy his new furniture at once, but Remus pointed out that it was almost seven, and that surely they could do it tomorrow. So they returned to the kitchen, and while Remus set about making dinner (Harry still had trouble getting used to the fact that he didn't have to do a single thing to help), Sirius pulled out a packet of cards and introduced Harry to Exploding Snap, a greatly entertaining wizard card game.

All in all, Harry thought as he was lying on the couch that night, wrapped once more in the woollen blanket (after Sirius' comment about people having died in the bed, he had opted out of staying in his new room for tonight), he was probably the luckiest boy in the world right now.

* * *

"I can't believe I got beaten by a seven-year-old," Sirius muttered, sipping his Butterbeer.

Remus, who had been leafing through the Daily Prophet he'd bought that morning, chuckled. "You should've known better than to challenge James Potter's son to a round of Exploding Snap," he pointed out.

At that, Sirius couldn't help but smile, as an odd sort of pride welled up in him. "Yeah," he said. "I reckon he's gonna be one hell of a Quidditch player when he gets older...Think we should get him a broom?" Remus arched an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. He didn't need to, as Sirius understood his meaning perfectly.

His good mood dwindled somewhat. "Right," he muttered. "On the run and all that. How'd go this morning, anyway? Ran into any trouble?"

Remus folded his paper and sat up, shaking his head. "Surprisingly little," he said, reaching to pour himself another cup of tea. "I think I saw Sturgis hang out in front of Gringotts, but he didn't recognize me. And this-" he motioned to the paper next to him, "Doesn't mention either Harry or me. Either they didn't know yet at the time of printing, or..."

"Or Dumbledore's keeping it quiet," Sirius finished, nodding. "So that only leaves the Order to worry about." He laughed humourlessly. "No worries, then. By the way," he added, feeling curious once more – he had missed so much while locked away, and even though Remus had filled him in on the important parts, there was still a host of things he had no idea of. He didn't even know if Milicent Bagnold was still minister. "Who's left nowadays? Half of us were dead by the time it was over, weren't they?"

Remus nodded slowly. "Not many. Dumbledore called us all back last week after you escaped, but only a few showed up. McGonagall, Flitwick and Hagrid, of course, and Emmeline, Diggle and Sturgis. Doge came later, too. And Moody, obviously." He smiled slightly. "Hasn't changed a bit. Although he lost an eye a couple of years back and replaced it with this special Middle Eastern import. It makes him look like a cyborg, but can apparently see through things. I must say I pity today's Auror cadets."

Sirius grinned at the thought. He had always liked Moody – or rather liked annoying Moody, even though that had led to him and James spending the majority of their Order meetings as ferrets. Then he remembered that the legendary Auror was now hunting him, and his fondness ebbed somewhat.

"Think they know we're here?" he wondered.

Remus nodded grimly. "They'll know someone put a Fidelius on the house, and they're not stupid. They'll certainly watch it."

"So how do we get Harry out?" Sirius wondered further. "Apparate?"

And splinch him into a million pieces? I don't think Lily and James would've liked that very much," Remus answered dryly, before scratching his head. "I don't know. I suppose we could try the floo, but where'd we go? And if Dumbledore told the ministry you're here, they'll have blocked that."

"Disillusionment and broom again, then?" Sirius asked. He didn't like the idea very much – they'd have to make to with a Disillusionment potion this time as they couldn't risk to perform the spell once outside the house, and neither he nor Remus had been particularly talented at it back in school. And, depending on how vigilant the house was watched, they might be spotted. Not to mention that depending on a broom made them terribly vulnerable, especially if the broom in question was as old and unreliable as Remus'.

The werewolf seemed to have similar objections. "Don't you think that's a bit too much of a risk for a simple shopping trip? I'm sure if we just asked Harry what he-"

But Sirius cut him off, shaking his head vigorously. "No. I promised Harry I'd take him, and I will. You've seen him, Remus. He hasn't been allowed to pick out something for himself even once in his life." When Remus still looked doubtful, he sighed. "It won't be a regular thing, I promise. But I'm not taking away this one opportunity from him."

Finally, Remus relented. "Alright," he sighed. "This once. But if there is any hint of trouble, you get him out of there at once. Let me handle the Aurors."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I see you haven't lost your martyr complex. Lovely."

* * *

"So Lupin's gone over, then?" Alastor's gruff voice cut through the shocked silence that had followed the report.

Albus nodded slightly. "It very much looks like it," he said. The hand in his pocket closed around the letter, but he chose to ignore it. Whether or not a word in it was true – and despite desperately wanting to hope, he still struggled to believe it – their priority had to be to get Harry back to his aunt and uncle, and Remus had made it clear that he would fight them in this, no matter what.

Several Order members swore, others looked horrified. He noticed Minerva surreptitiously drawing a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes. "To think that he, of all people...do you think it is because of..." She didn't finish, glancing around the table nervously. After all, most Order members were still oblivious to Remus' sickness.

Albus had always respected his wish to keep it quiet, and normally wouldn't have dreamed of revealing his secret to anybody. But that was before his trust had been so violently shaken. "It might well have had something to do with his lycanthrophy," he nodded. There were several gasps, and Daedalus Diggle lost his top hat.

"Lupin's a werewolf?" Alastor growled. "And you never thought to share that with us, Albus?"

The headmaster grimaced. "It wasn't my secret to share. And it did not seem to matter – after all, I hope nobody at this table buys into the prejudices surrounding that particular curse. Remus was just a boy like any other when he got into Hogwarts, a sick boy, maybe, but completely innocent of what had happened to him."

"And now he's a traitor," Alastor pointed out. "I wonder how long he's been working with Black."

"I am certain that he was on our side during the war," Albus said quickly. "I rather think that Sirius won him over somehow after he escaped – Remus' life was never easy; and even worse after the Potters died. It is easy to become disillusioned in a society that has no place for you."

"Surely you can't be defending him, Dumbledore!" Sturgis Podmore exclaimed, his face unusually pale. "The man's a monster, same as Black. And they have the Potter boy! That is, if they haven't already-"

"That's enough, Sturgis," Emmeline, equally pale, said quickly. "We don't need to think about..." Her gaze wandered to Albus, seeking reassurance.

He smiled sadly. "I am almost certain he is still alive," Albus said mildly, "But it is essential that we find him as soon as possible."

"And where do we start?" Minerva asked.

"I believe they are hiding at the old Black mansion," Albus answered, remembering the missing house from this morning. "It looks like Black has put a Fidelius Charm on the place."

More gasps. "A _Fidelius_?" Emmeline repeated, disgust lacing her voice. "After everything..."

"The bastard's got some nerves," Alastor growled. "And brains, unfortunately for us. Don't see how we can get to them there."

"Surely they'll have to come out at some point," Daedalus said. "Black doesn't even have a wand, and no money-"

"Afraid he does," Sturgis interrupted him. He'd been late, and hadn't gotten a chance to report yet. "I finally managed to talk the goblins around earlier, and they at least agreed to tell me if somebody requested access to his vault. Turns out he was already there, this morning. They didn't tell me what he took, but we can be certain that his wand was among it."

More swearing around the table, and Albus felt his hope falter further. _Always one step ahead front of us..._ He should have known it wouldn't be easy. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin had been two of the most intelligent boys he had ever taught, not to mention Marauders, whose skill for sneaking around was unrivalled. Born criminals, actually.

They had even remembered the portrait of Phineas Nigellus that hung in one of the rooms of Grimmauld Place, as Albus had discovered to his frustration when he had tried to talk to the former headmaster this afternoon. Apparently Sirius had sealed off his painting so that he couldn't escape to any of the others in the house and deposited him in a dark corner of the attic, soundproofed and cut off from any information. Needless to say, it had been impossible to get anything more out of Phineas, as he had been far too busy alternatively sulking and ranting at his great-great-grandson.

"I told them time and time again to go through the old records and destroy the damn things," Alastor snarled, his blue eye swirling in his socket angrily. "Any old Death Eater could march into Gringotts and retrieve his wand. And now one did."

Albus sighed. "It happened, nothing we can do about it. For now, we have to figure out our next step."

"What are we telling the ministry?" Sturgis asked. "If we can't find him, someone's bound to-"

"I do not think it would be wise to include the ministry at this point," Dumbledore said quickly. "If they get to Harry first, they might send him to a foster family, and that would be just as detrimental."

Directly after the murder of the Potters, Minister Bagnold had been sceptical about sending the Boy who lived to stay with muggles, but accepted Dumbledore's decision. Now, however... _You failed. There is no reason the ministry should trust you again._

He pushed the thought aside. There was still time to find Harry, before...

"What we have to do now is make sure we catch them the next time they go out. We need to get the ministry to block the floo connection," he glanced over to Alastor, "But don't tell them we know for sure he's in there."

"It's already blocked; did it last Monday," the Auror said. "We'll need a proper guard schedule, though. Scrimgeour put up a couple of Aurors, but Larkfield and Millwitch are idiots. A first year could sneak past them."

"What about the trace?" Filius asked. "Is it still working? How come we did not notice them taking the boy? Surely they can't have done so without using magic?"

"Because they were clever," Alastor answered, sounding impressed and annoyed at the same time. "The trace did activate last night, but it was only a few Disillusionment spells. The morons from MLE thought it was someone keeping an eye on Potter and didn't investigate it."

"So the trace does work?" Emmeline clarified. "We'll know if they use magic around them?"

"Not if they keep him in the Black mansion," Filius supplied quickly, shaking his head. "All the old houses have wards blocking it. It's illegal nowadays, but I don't think it was ever taken down in the Black Mansion."

"But if they want to move him, we'll have them," Alastor said. "If they're stupid enough to use magic, that is."

Albus nodded, even though he strongly doubted that Remus or Sirius would indeed be stupid enough. "It might be helpful to put out some sort of missive to the muggles – "He looked over to Emmeline, who nodded, "tell them we're looking for two men and a boy. Somebody might see them."

Masterful minds they might be, but even Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were bound to slip up at some point. Or so Albus hoped.

* * *

"I'm really not comfortable with this," Remus said, staring uneasily at his attire while Harry was visibly struggling – and failing – to hide his sniggers.

Sirius merely grinned, not even bothering to try and hide it. "Your idea, Moony. And cheer up, you look absolutely dashing. If I didn't know it was you, I'd totally snog you."

"If that's supposed to make me feel better, it's not working," Remus said unhappily, tugging at the frilly dress in which Sirius had transfigured his robes. He wished he hadn't brought up the whole thing about muggle suspicion. It wasn't the fifties anymore; surely two men going shopping with a child wouldn't cause _that_ many stares.

But once Sirius had realized what Remus' concern entailed, there had been no stopping him. And so it came that Remus Lupin, werewolf, war veteran and renowned wizard, was now standing in the hallway of number twelve Grimmauld Place in a dress, high heeled shoes and wavy blond hair, a distinctly feminine body under all of it.

"I look like a tramp," he said, scrutinizing himself in the mirror, "Not somebody's mother."

"Oh, don't fret, honey," Sirius said in a falsely sweet tone, putting his arm around him in a rather inappropriate way. "You look stunning. Doesn't Mummy look stunning, Harry?"

Harry – his own hair transfigured into blond curls, his eyes blue and his face broader than usual – couldn't hold it back any longer, and collapsed on the floor, howling with laughter, while Remus exasperatedly shoved Sirius away from him and tried to murder him with his eyes. "I can't believe I'm going to be sent to Azkaban in a dress," he muttered when the convict failed to drop dead, and walked over to the window – narrowly avoiding breaking his ankle when he was reminded of the ridiculous shoes Sirius had conjured for him.

"Two Aurors, but they appear to be doing the crossword," he reported as he surveyed the street, crouching down to transfigure his shoes into something a little less resembling a death trap. "And I'm pretty sure there's someone under an invisibility cloak over at the lamppost; there was movement earlier. It's probably the Order."

At the mention of their pursuers, Sirius sobered somewhat. "Better go out the back window, then," he said, helping Harry do his feet. "Ready, Prongslet?" Harry nodded, looking rather excited at the prospect of flying once more, and not even the slightest bit concerned about the fact that they'd be exiting through a window on the first floor.

 _Yes. Definitely James' son._

* * *

 **Bit of a filler, this one, but there'll be plenty of action next time. Because what could possibly go wrong on that shopping trip? ;)  
**

 **Don't forget to leave a review! :)**


	6. Of Spies and Aurors

**Thanks for all those lovely reviews!**

 **I have to admit I'm a bit surprised at all the hate towards Dumbledore, but reading back I can kind of understand it. I just wanted to quickly point out that I'm not a fan of bashing, and this story will not be purely "evil Dumbledore", otherwise I wouldn't have included his POV in the first place. He has his reasons for his actions, and whether you agree with him or not, I don't think he bears any hard feelings towards Harry, or even Remus and Sirius should he accept the truth. In my opinion his was one of the most interesting characters in the books, especially in the last one, and I was hoping to reflect the moral greyness that was shown there. Having said that, at this point he _is_ kind of a dick...  
**

 **CaseLC: Regarding the last chapter about what Remus gave Sirius, it was just his wand, but I figured that after years of not having acess to his magic, that would be quite an emotional moment for him. I don't think Dumbledore intends to prejudice people against Remus; it's just that he's honestly shocked to be betrayed like that. Remus was always shown as one of the most loyal Dumbledore supporters, and I feel that Dumbledore would be a bit shaken by this.  
**

 **Skybox: Thanks! They will obviously try and find Peter at one point, but right now their priority is taking care of Harry, so it might still be a while. Abotu Hogwarts, without wanting to spoil anything, yes Harry will go there (because what kind of Harry Potter story omits Hogwarts!?), but given that he's only seven in this one, that too will come much later.**

 **alix33: As always, thank you very much for pointing out all those mistakes! I very much appreciate that you actually take the time to go through it and find them all :)**

 **paradoxed: Thank you! The letter thing will actually be adressed in a later chapter (currently writing it, though it will be a few weeks until you guys see it)**

 **Anyway, this one is actually my favourite chapter so far, so I hope you enjoy it :)**

* * *

 **Of Spies and Aurors**

Harry had accompanied his aunt and uncle to go shopping before (whenever they hadn't managed to ship him off to Mrs Figg for the day), but usually it had just been him following them around while Dudley screamed until they bought him more expensive toys.

Now it was Sirius and Remus following _him_ around. Or rather, tried to as they encouraged him to go and "just pick whatever you like" but ended up practically forcing things on him when Harry hesitated to choose.

Because despite everything, he still could not quite believe that he was actually asked for his _opinion_ on something, and that they would just buy so many things _for him_.

"What do you think of this one?" Sirius asked as they strolled through the bed section of a big furniture store, and he experimentally pushed on the matrass of a large wooden one. "Feels bouncy. That's the most important thing, really," he explained seriously, "A bed needs to withstand some proper bouncing action." He exchanged a short look with Remus, who arched an eyebrow at him, and scowled. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Moony." Harry didn't understand that comment, but he barely noticed as he was far too preoccupied that he had practically just been invited to jump on his bed. Not even Dudley was allowed to do _that_.

Once again mistaking Harry's stunned silence for rejection, Sirius quickly continued. "Or if you don't like any of them, you can have a hammock," he said, grinning as he pointed to a red and green striped one on the other side of the shop. "Then you'll be an actual pirate!"

"I always wanted to have a hammock when I was little," Remus said, a wistful smile coming onto his face. "To avoid any monsters under my bed. Because, I reasoned, it would be rather hard for them to hide under a hammock."

Harry's eye grew big. "There were monsters under your bed?" After everything he had experienced about this wonderful new world – and most of it had been in the admittedly rather scary house – he wouldn't exclude that possibility either.

But the smile faltered a little, as Remus seemed to regret his words already. "No," he said quietly, "Not under my bed. What about this one? I quite like the colour."

There was a short pause, and Harry could feel that something wasn't right, but Sirius quickly recovered his spirits, grinning once more, if a little too brightly. " _Blue_!? We're not making him a Ravenclaw!"

The banter continued for a while (Sirius had to be actively stopped by Remus from test-jumping on one of the beds), until Harry settled on a simple, wooden one made of mahogany. They still ended up buying a hammock for him anyway ("In case monsters do show up"), together with a matching desk and swivel chair (these, Remus hadn't been able to stop Sirius from trying, leading to them very nearly being thrown out of the shop), and a wardrobe (Harry, feeling rather guilty when he thought about all the money they were about to spend on him, tried to convince them that really, he could use the one already in his room, but Sirius pointed out that somebody had in all likelihood died in _there_ as well, so the idea was dismissed).

After they had handed a rather surprised-looking cashier the huge wad of cash, Harry and Sirius went ahead to go look for clothes while Remus found a secluded corner to shrink their purchases. They had explained to Harry that they couldn't perform magic while he was near, because then the ministry would learn where they were. At first, Harry had been a little bit frightened by the idea of ominous, unseen powers hunting after them, but after seeing how relaxed Sirius and Remus were, joking around about Remus' disguise, he started to see the exciting side of it.

They were like the spies in the movies, sneaking around in disguise, outsmarting the bad guys. They even had code names, although theirs were a little less impressive than "007".

"I'll be called Winston," Sirius said as they were looking through a series of coloured jumpers, "I always wanted to be a Winston. There was a muggle church leader called Winston, wasn't there?"

"He was a politician," Remus sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. "And he was arguably the most important British prime minister in history. How do you _not_ know him?"

Harry sniggered. He had already learned that while he might be absolutely clueless when it came to the wizarding world, Sirius didn't know much about normal people either. _Harry_ knew who Churchill was, after all, and he was much younger than his godfather.

"Oh, shut up, _Virginia_ ," Sirius scoffed, taking the jumper that Harry had chosen and putting it on the quickly growing pile of clothes on his arm. Remus rolled his eyes. "Hilarious," he muttered, before glancing around. "Think we got enough? People might actually get suspicious if we end up buying the whole place."

In the next shop, they got Harry two pairs of shoes – and some black leather boots for Sirius, even though Remus informed him that fashion had actually changed since his imprisonment, and that he was looking a lot less hip than he probably thought. "Yeah, 'cos you know all about keeping up with fashion," Sirius scoffed. "I mean, I wouldn't have thought it possible, but your wardrobe actually got _less_ colourful while I was gone. You do realize there's colours other than brown and beige? It's downright depressing, mate."

A muggle looked over to them, and Sirius quickly amended, in falsely sweet voice, "I mean... _honey_. You should really buy yourself something nice for once. Aren't these pretty?" He pointed towards a pair of pink sandals that Aunt Petunia would probably have killed for. Remus also tried to kill Sirius, albeit with his eyes, while Harry had to supress his laughter.

 _No wonder the other boys at school always wanted to play spies. It's brilliant!_

They had lunch in one of the restaurants, where Harry was once again allowed to choose whatever he wanted, and Sirius and Remus told him a story about how they and his father had once almost been discovered by muggles in a shopping centre after James and Sirius had "accidentally" – Remus coughed pointedly at that – released a couple of Dungbombs in a perfume shop. ("It did actually improve the smell, though!")

Harry was laughing so hard that other guests started to look over, and Remus quickly assumed a stern tone (that sounded surprisingly convincing with the female voice Sirius had charmed him), "That story is hardly appropriate for the boy, Winston. James might think it's actually okay to act that way." It was somewhat undermined by the fact that both Harry and Sirius were struggling to keep the grin off their faces, but it did take the attention away from them.

"It is, of course, totally not okay to act like that, by the way," Sirius added quietly when they had calmed down a bit, a more serious expression on his face now. "We behaved atrociously and you should in no way try to replicate that, Ha- _James_." Harry nodded, although he couldn't help but feel unconvinced. The way they had told it, neither Sirius nor Remus seemed to regret their actions much.

 _I suppose it's not very nice, though_ , Harry mused, _throwing stink bombs at other people._

After lunch, they strolled around some more, entering whatever shops struck their fancy. Remus spent quite some time in a book shop, much to Sirius chagrin.

"Can we go now?" he sighed after twenty minutes of increasing boredom. "Surely you must've read every book on the bloody planet by now."

"Don't swear in front of James, dear," Remus said absentmindedly, not lifting his gaze from the book he was examining. But there was a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes, and Harry was certain that he was very much aware of Sirius' annoyance. "And there's quite a lot of books in the world, actually. You wouldn't know, of course, never having opened one."

"I have opened a book!" Sirius exclaimed indignantly.

Remus grinned impishly, an odd sight on his transfigured face, and shut the book with a plop before putting it on the sizable pile that he had collected. "Stolen diaries from the girls dormitories don't count," he informed his friend as he strolled over to the till. Sirius was still spluttering with indignation when they were back outside the shop, and Harry thought that as best days of his life went, he was really having a hard time to choose between the last three ones.

* * *

Harry and Sirius were just enjoying some ice cream (Harry could count on his fingers the previous occasions he had eaten some, and here he was allowed to have _as many scoops as he wanted_ ), when their perfect day was shattered.

"What's that?" Harry asked, pointing with his cone towards the other end of the mall, where some sort of commotion appeared to have broken out. Sirius frowned, craning his neck. "Dunno," he said with a casual shrug. "Maybe they're giving away some free stuff? I think they do that sometimes, to get people to notice their products." He sounded unconcerned, but Harry didn't miss the way his posture changed, looking a lot more like he had when he and Remus had first shown up in Privet Drive. _Worried. Hunted._

"Do you think it might be Remus?" Harry asked, feeling worry rise in him as well. The other man had left them once more so he could shrink their purchases without giving away their location. Come to think of it, he'd been gone longer than the last times...

"Nah," Sirius said, smiling at Harry. It wasn't a very convincing smile. "He's too clever to get caught. Come here" he took Harry's hand in his, quickly finishing the rest of his own ice cream before putting the other hand in his pocket, where Harry knew his wand was hidden. "Let's go look at some squirt guns. I always wanted to have a squirt gun."

Before they could get far, though, Harry saw a (sort of) familiar figure in a blue dress appear between the crowds, making her way over to them. He was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when he noticed Remus' hurried steps, and the clearly worried look that was on his face. Sirius must've seen it as well, because the grip on Harry's hand tightened.

"What happened?" he muttered as soon as Remus was with them, falling into step on Harry's other side. "They found the broomstick," Remus said in a quiet, urgent tone that did not match his female voice at all. "Some muggle saw it hovering around, think it must've gotten out of its hiding place – ancient thing, I've been meaning to have it checked for ages – and there was a bit of a tumult. Obliviators are already there; don't think they know it was us, or there'd be Aurors. But it's only a matter of time before someone figures it out..." Sirius swore violently, and this time Remus did not reprimand him.

Harry felt his stomach plummet, as all of his anxiousness returned.

"But- But how do we get home?" he asked, not caring for once how whiny his voice sounded. Sirius and Remus exchanged a short glance, and Harry felt like they were silently communicating. When his godfather looked back down, there was once more a smile on his face. "We'll just gonna have to take the tube, Prongslet. Did you ever ride the tube?" When Harry shook his head, his smile broadened. "It'll be fun, you'll see," he promised. "Come on, then. And don't forget to call us Mummy and Daddy, alright? We're undercover, after all!"

Harry nodded, although try as he might, he couldn't muster the same enthusiasm as before for their game. Because, he realized now, it _wasn't_ a game. It was real, and there were real people out there who wanted to lock up Sirius and Remus and send Harry back to his terrible family.

The ride home was rather long, and mostly silent. They had to change trains twice, and every time Harry expected some dark figures to jump out from behind the ticket machine and drag him away. He didn't need Sirius' reminder to stay close, as he pressed himself to his godfather as firmly as he could.

Sirius and Remus didn't talk much either, and when they did it was in quiet, hushed voices that Harry didn't understand but thought sounded very worried indeed.

Finally, they reached their stop, and slowly made their way back outside. Again, Harry expected their pursuers to be waiting for them, but while there were plenty of people bustling about, nobody gave the small family a second glance.

That was, until they reached Grimmauld Place. Sirius had told Harry to hide with Remus behind some bins around the corner, while he transformed into a dog and went ahead to check. Harry thought he had never been more scared than in those terrible minutes, when he anxiously waited for the sounds of shouting, barking, whining, of Sirius being captured.

But it stayed silent, and after a short while the black dog rounded the corner once more. "Still only two Aurors, and someone hiding under an invisibility cloak," he reported once he had changed back into the thickset man with short, chestnut hair that he had chosen as a disguise that morning. "Smelled like Moody, but I'm not sure."

"So they don't know it was us yet," Remus said, rubbing the back of his head. "Still, if it's Moody he won't be fooled by the Disillusionment Draught. And we can't get up to the back window without a broom..."

"Go in in plain sight, then," Sirius said, a look if grim determination on his face. "And see how convincing that little charade of us really is."

Remus didn't look very happy with that – and neither was Harry, if he was perfectly honest, though he didn't dare to protest – but finally nodded. "Hope you practiced your shield charm," he muttered as he straightened his dress stepping out in front of the dumpsters. "He hasn't gotten any slower over the years."

"Alright, Harry," Sirius said, kneeling down in front of him so that their eyes were level. "I need to you be very brave now." Harry gulped, not feeling brave at all, but Sirius took his hand, smiling encouragingly. "We'll just walk past there," he explained, "and make it look like we can't even see our house. Can you do that?" Harry did not think he could, but nodded nevertheless. "And then, when we're right next to it, and I give you a shout, you'll run towards the door as fast as you can. Don't look back, don't stop, just run inside. Do you understand?" Uncertainly, Harry nodded again. He was terribly scared, but Sirius did not let go of his hand, and that helped a bit. "It'll be over before you know it," his godfather promised, rising to his feet once more. "And then we can put up all of your new things, and Remus'll make us some hot chocolate. How's that sound?"

"Okay," Harry said timidly, surprised he could utter any sound at all, when all he wanted to do was bury his face in Sirius robes and cry until this nightmare was over.

"You can do it, Prongslet," Sirius promised as he led Harry out to the street and put an arm around the waiting Remus. This time, Remus didn't protest, and as they made their way down the road, they really did look like a proper family.

A family whose child was shaking so terribly that he was sure every bad guy in the whole of London could hear the clatter of his teeth. The crimson-robed figures – Aurors, as Remus had called them – looked up when they appeared, and for a moment Harry was certain that they'd lunge at them.

They didn't, but they didn't look back down either, and Harry felt like they'd start firing the red jets that he had seen Remus and Sirius use on the pests at him the minute he'd try to run inside. The memory of the nasty pixy-creatures lifelessly falling out of the air made him almost freeze in fear.

But as they reached number twelve, Sirius suddenly let go of Harry's and, instead taking Remus' head and turning it around so he could kiss him full on the lips. Harry was so stunned that he almost forgot to be scared, and for a moment Remus seemed to struggle, but then he actually relaxed. Before Harry had quite understood what was happening, they separated.

" _Now_ , Harry! _Protego_ " Harry reacted instinctively. His legs started to run without his head even telling them to as he stumbled towards the big black door with the large number twelve, nearly tripping when his trembling knees gave way under him.

But he didn't fall, and he didn't stop, even when he heard shouts and bangs behind him.

 _You'll run towards the door as fast as you can. Don't look back, don't stop, just run inside._

There was a cry of pain, and Harry almost stopped, but he knew he couldn't, because Sirius had told him not to.

 _It'll be over before you know it_

He reached the steps, taking two at a time as he hurled himself upwards, crashing down and hitting his knee as his foot caught on one of them. Pain shot through him, but he ignored it, stumbling forward on all fours.

 _And then we can put up all of your new things, and Remus'll make us some hot chocolate._

It would all be fine. He just had to reach the door...

And then he was there, and the black door swung open as he crashed against it, stumbling into the dark hallway. There was another bang, and as he looked back he could see a grey haired figure with a terrible eye running towards Sirius Remus – who now looked like themselves again – shooting more of those terribly jets at them. The other two had their wands raised as well, and jet after jet was deflected as if by an invisible shield. "Now!" Remus shouted, and while he fired a jet of his own at the approaching figure, Sirius grabbed his arm, turned, and...

There was a plop, and the two men crashed down right on the front steps, tumbling to the floor next to Harry. With a last effort, Sirius rolled them forwards into the hallway, slamming the door shut with his foot and drowning out the angry curses of the terrible man outside.

For a moment all that could be heard was the shouting of the scary portrait, as all three of them lay on the ground, panting. Remus sat up first, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth with an appalled frown. "That," he said over the screams and insults that were being flung at them, "Was the most disgusting thing you have ever done." There was blood on his shoulder, but he barely seemed to notice as he got to his feet and wrestled the curtains shut to quiet the portrait.

Sirius laughed. "Trust me, it really isn't. Remember Cecilia Arkwood? The-" His eyes wandered to Harry, and the smile was wiped off his face in an instant.

"Harry," he said, quickly walking over to him and helping him up, looking him over with an expression of mild panic. "Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Did you get-" his eyes fell to Harry's ripped trousers, and the bloody skin that shone through it. He swore quietly, quickly grabbing his wand. "Hold on, it'll be over in a sec" He waved it over Harry's knee, and there was a slight tingling sensation as Harry watched his skin mend itself.

Under different circumstances Harry might have been delighted at this show of magic, but now he barely noticed the pain ebbing. He could still see the terrible blue eye, the bright red light, the screams, the terror...his legs gave up under him, but he didn't fall.

Instead two strong arms closed around him, and he found himself pressed into the scratchy material of Sirius' coat, the comforting smell surrounding him. "Shh,it's alright now, Prongslet," he heard his godfather's voice whisper in his ear as the tears finally broke free, and he started to uncontrollably sob into the coat. "We're safe. We're all safe. They can't hurt us in here, I promise."

He felt his godfather turn his head towards Remus. "Need help with that?"

"No, it's fine," Remus' voice said, and through his sobs Harry could hear him whisper some sort of spell. "Just a bit of debris when he hit the fence." There was a short pause, then Remus' voice sounded from further away. "He's talking to the Aur- no, I think he's obliviating them."

He sounded puzzled, but Sirius shrugged. "Guess that answers our question about whether Dumbledore wants to keep it quiet."

Remus sighed. "I suppose."

Their calm voices, together with the soft rocking of Sirius' arms started to show its effect, and eventually Harry felt his sobs grow smaller.

He was safe. He was with Sirius and Remus, and nothing could hurt him here. No crimson-robed strangers, no shouting pirates with horrible eyes.

When he had gone quiet, Sirius gently disentangled himself from him, holding Harry at arm's length so he could look him in the eyes. "I am sorry," he said earnestly, his grey eyes shining with emotion – fear, relief, regret – "I should never have put you through that. I will do my best to make sure it will never happen again, but I can't promise you it won't, and I'm not going to lie to you." He paused, before continuing more slowly, "If you want to go back to your aunt and uncle, I can perfectly understand. No-one will bother you there, I can promise you that at least."

Harry swallowed. Before, when he had told Sirius that he didn't mind hiding, it had been out of impulse. The idea of going back to the Dursleys was so terrifying that the vague notion of having to stay inside was perfectly acceptable. But now he knew what Sirius had meant, and what living with him and Remus entailed.

"No," he said firmly. "I want to stay with you."

A smile crept onto Sirius' face, not the stressed laugh when he had joked about kissing Remus, but an earnest, wholehearted smile. "Then you will," he said, hugging Harry to his chest once more. As he hugged his godfather back, he heard him whisper into his ear: "You were incredibly brave out there, Prongslet. Wherever they are, I know your parents are very proud of you."

* * *

 **They're still alive! And - sort of - well!  
**

 **Do British seven year olds know who Churchill is? Is it ridiculous that I spent about fifteen minutes thinking about this and whether I should change it? I'm gonna go with yes in both cases...  
**

 **If you've got time, why not leave a review? ;)**


	7. The Things We Do

**Thanks for all the comments about Churchill, it was really bugging me. The only comparison I could come up with for myself was Hitler, but while I think I'd probably heard of him at that age, for obvious reasons he wasn't part of the curriculum in year three. (Not trying to put Hitler in the same boat with Churchill, obviously, it's just that he's sort of the most famous politician Germany's ever had. Which is actually quite depressing, come to think of it.)  
**

 **Guest(1): That's something that has actually always bugged me in the books; all those miscarriages of judgment are sort of hard to justify if there's things like Veritaserum and Unbreakable Vows. Even if they have laws about not forcing people to take the potion, surely if someone volunteered to take it they'd have to take that as proof? Concerning this story, the problem is communicating at all. As they're under the Fidelius, they have to be very careful to not give themselves away accidentally. It will be addressed in later chapters, though.**

 **Millie: They sort of do know he was treated badly (I actually have a small revenge planned for much later), but there's not much they can do about it except make up for it by spoiling Harry rotten. They'd never force him to help clean, of course, but as I mentioned in earlier chapters he quite likes to help anyway. Who wouldn't, with an house as interesting as Grimmauld Place? This story is actually set in spring (I think I mentioned it was April in the first chapter), I just lazily use "six years" for the time Sirius spent in Azkaban because "six-and-a-half" would sort of break the flow. Sorry for any confusions. Regarding Remus, of course he will ;)**

 **CaseLC: I'd be lying if I said I hadn't also done it for the laughs, but mostly I wanted to show Sirius and Remus slipping back into their old "war routine". I imagine they used humour a lot to cope with all that horror during the First War, and being flung back into battle like that revives those old reflexes. But your point about Sirius kissing him being more shocking than Death Eaters is far better! :D**

 **ShinigamiRae: Good point! Hadn't even thought about that.**

* * *

 **The Things We Do**

„That was far too close," Remus said as soon as the door closed behind them. Sirius merely nodded, slowly making his way down the stairs. After the horrifying events this evening Harry had not seemed overly keen to sleep in his new room, and so he and Remus had sat down in the study with him, talking and drinking hot chocolate until the boy had finally fallen asleep on the sofa.

Now they walked down to the kitchen, only now really coming to terms with what had happened. "I know. You were right; I should never have taken him outside..." The guilt that had churned at the back of his head for the last couple of hours hit him with full force, as he realized, for the first time, just how close he had come to losing Harry.

Losing the one thing that mattered more than anything else.

He collapsed into a chair, burying his face in his hands.

 _I almost failed him. I almost failed James again, and it was all my fault..._

"We made it, though," Remus added quickly, in a rather transparent bid to lift his spirits. "And Moody would never have hurt Harry – he only shot stunning spells, didn't he? We might've ended up in prison, but for Harry it was harmless."

Sirius scoffed. "Harmless?" he repeated dryly. "How's your shoulder?" He didn't wait for Remus to answer as he went on, jumping to his feet in anguish. "You saw him after we got back. He was utterly terrified." The horror in those green eyes haunted him even now. "He'll probably have nightmares for days, if not months. It's bad enough I make him live in this hell house, and now I'm traumatizing him even further." He was pacing now, but he barely noticed as ever more scenarios of horror solidified in his mind. Harry, hit by a spell, collapsing. Harry, crying himself to sleep. Harry, staring at him in panic, frightened of the man who had dragged him into this life of hell. And James and Lily, who he had failed, who he was still failing...

"Sirius... Sirius. _Padfoot_." It took him a moment to realize that Remus was calling his name, and he suddenly felt himself pushed gently back into his chair. "Calm down," his friend said firmly, sliding a bar of chocolate towards him. "Eat."

Sirius bristled. "I'm not a bloody child, Moony! I'm-"

"You look like a ghost, " Remus interrupted him, unwrapping the chocolate and breaking it into smaller pieces that he pushed back to him. "And whatever's going through your head right now, it's not you. "

He met his gaze firmly, and after a few moments of staring Sirius relented, and grudgingly shoved a handful of chocolate in his mouth.

 _It's over. You're out of there, you're never going back. You'll kill yourself before you go back to that place._

Except it wasn't over. The dread was still there, lurking in his mind, ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness. Feasting on his doubts and fears. His body might have escaped Azkaban, but his mind hadn't.

"What did you tell Harry?" Remus' quiet voice broke the silence. "About why you change into a dog every night."

Sirius winced. He had hoped his friend wouldn't notice, wouldn't make the connection – after all, Sirius had slept as a dog occasionally even when they were back at Hogwarts, whenever the mood struck him. But of course Remus had noticed, because he woke up at five in the bloody morning, and of course he knew why Sirius changed, because he wasn't an idiot.

"Didn't ask," he mumbled, breaking off some more chocolate. Much as he hated to admit it, it did actually help, and he felt the cold slowly leave his body. "Think I freaked him out a little bit that first morning, but there's so much new stuff to discover he didn't even question why I did it." He sighed, watching as Remus slowly walked over to the sink to make some more tea.

"I don't do it on purpose," he admitted quietly, staring down at his chocolate-covered fingers. "I don't even notice; it just...happens."

Remus threw him a sad glance. "It's a miracle you made it out there alive," he said sympathetically. "Most people would have gone insane after all that time. But you did it. You did get out, and you're there for Harry now."

"Yeah," Sirius muttered, not really convinced, "his mentally unstable godfather. Starting to think he'd be better off with the muggles after all."

"No you don't," Remus said, uncharacteristically sharp. "You know they treated him like vermin, you know Harry'd rather sleep in the streets than go back to them. And he obviously adores you. So what if you wake up as a dog sometimes? Saves us the bother of getting him a pet... You know how much I hate cats."

Sirius couldn't help but chuckle at that, feeling his gloominess seep away. Part of him was disappointed he didn't get to mope for longer, but he forced himself to eat another mouthful of chocolate and grinned. "A broomstick for his birthday it is, then?"

Remus sighed. "Might as well, given we lost our means of transportation...shame, really. I liked that broomstick."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "It was like a million years old and about as fast as Dumbledore's grandmother. Good riddance. I say we get Harry a Starsweeper, or maybe a Nimbus. What's the latest model?"

Remus arched an eyebrow. "I have absolutely no idea," he said dryly without looking up from where he was pouring the milk. "This might come as a surprise to you, but I'm not exactly the most well-informed customer of high end brooms. And-," he continued as he carried the mugs back to the table, "-putting a seven-year-old on a professional racing broom is something I think even James wouldn't have condoned. Especially if it was _his_ seven-year-old."

"What about a motorbike, then," Sirius asked undeterred, his good spirits fully returned. (For now, at least, but he choose to ignore the darkness that still lingered at the back of his mind) "I left mine with Hagrid. Reckon he still has it?"

"If you let Harry so much as near that monstrosity," Remus said gravely, although there was an amused twinkling in his eyes, "Lily will literally come back from the grave and murder us."

"Werewolves are no fun," Sirius muttered, grudgingly accepting the tea while wishing it was something stronger.

"That's actually something I've been meaning to bring up," Remus said, his voice suddenly subdued once more. "Full moon's this Friday."

Sirius felt himself sober immediately. "Oh." It shamed him to realize that in the middle of all the Harry business, he had actually forgotten about Remus' furry little problem.

"I suppose we can clean up the attic until then," he said slowly. "Ward it off, soundproof it...moonrise isn't until late this time of year, is it? Harry'll be asleep before it starts. I-"

"I'm not spending it here," Remus said at once. "Not with Harry here."

"But I don't want to leave him on his-"

"-and you're not going with me."

Sirius stared. "Moony-"

"This is not up for discussion," Remus insisted, determination in his blue eyes. "You know how much can go wrong. And do you really want a feral werewolf in the same house as Harry?"

"You're not-"

"Of course I am," Remus snapped voice growing louder. "It's not like it used to be; I'm not the tame little wolf you can take with you on your adventures anymore. That part died long ago, Sirius. The wolf now...it's a _dark creature_. And he might very well rip you apart to get to Harry. And then rip _him_ apart."

The last words he had almost shouted, and for a moment they merely stared at each other, Remus breathing heavily with an anguished look on his face while Sirius was too stunned to move a muscle.

He had known this self-loathing side of Remus, of course –lycantrophy and a brooding mind did not mix well with teenage hormones – but never this strongly, never with this much conviction.

 _You went through hell, but so did he._

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "It's your decision, not mine." If things had been different, if it had been just the two of them living here, he might have continued the argument, insisted that Remus let him help. But they weren't, and much as he hated to admit it, Sirius did share some of his friend's concerns. He had seen first-hand what destruction the wolf could bring, how violent it could become. He could very well understand why Remus did not want Harry to be in the same house, and if he was honest with himself, neither did he.

"Where will you go?" he asked finally, when the silence stretched out.

Remus shrugged, sipping his tea. "Got a few hideouts that the Order doesn't know about. They'd be mad to try and capture me during the full moon, but I'd rather not take the risk." He didn't elaborate further, and Sirius couldn't shake of the feeling that the werewolf was deliberately vague, for fear that Sirius might decide to follow him after all.

He didn't argue about it, tired of fighting and worrying. "You really are an atrocious kisser," he said instead after a few more minutes of silence, smirking.

Remus snorted into his tea. "I still can't believe you actually did that," he muttered resentfully. "I'll have nightmares for weeks."

Sirius grinned. "They were getting suspicious; I had to do something. And others kissing makes people uncomfortable. Not even Moody would stare at that." When Remus didn't reply, his grin broadened. "I'm sorry, did I get your hopes up? No offence, Moony, but you really aren't my type."

"Well that's a relief," Remus said sarcastically, rubbing his shoulder before grimacing. "Next time you'll be the woman. My feet are killing me." He rolled his eyes at Sirius howls of laughter, but couldn't prevent a small chuckle from escaping his own mouth.

Battered, they might be. A little broken, too. And certainly not the family either of them would have wished for Harry. But they would do their best, they would keep fighting. And somehow they would prevail, against the shadows of Azkaban, against full moons misguided Order members. Because they had to.

For Harry.

* * *

 _For Harry._

As he listened to Alastor's report that oscillated between furious indignation and quiet, grudging apologies for his own lack of constant vigilance, Albus wondered how far he would have to go for the boy.

He was now almost certain that Remus' letter had indeed been telling the truth. There had been several muggle witnesses who had seen the small family, and apparently they had practically bought a complete children's bedroom. They obviously meant to settle in for the long run at Grimmauld Place, and unless Sturgis' theory was correct, and they were planning to raise him as a second Dark Lord, that could only mean that their intentions were indeed well-meaning.

Well-meaning, but woefully misguided.

Because with every day that passed, with every new bookshelf, every new toy, the bond that tied Harry to Privet Drive dwindled – how long would it take for the boy to fully view this new place as home? A week? A month? Merlin knew those unpleasant relatives hadn't made it hard for him to let go.

 _Maybe you should've acted sooner. You saw the signs; Arabella told you often enough. If you had acted sooner, maybe allowed Remus or somebody else to visit once in a while..._

But he had known how dangerous it would be for Harry to come in contact with the wizarding world too soon, how easy it would've been for him to fall into the wrong hands. No, he had to be kept safe. Lily Potter's sacrifice could not be allowed to have been in vain.

"Sodding _kissing_ ," Alastor was just muttering, still very much outraged. "How should I ...I mean..."

"Well, I always did wonder about those two..." Sturgis commented with a sly grin, although it quickly dropped when he saw that nobody else was smiling. "At least we know they're not going anywhere," he added quickly, straightening. "And don't you think it might be time to inform the ministry, Dumbledore? We can stand guard all we like, but we're not getting in there on our own. We need more resources."

"You've read the minister's last statement, haven't you?" Minerva snapped uncharacteristically harshly, making Sturgis, a former student of her, flinch. She had been hit particularly hard by Remus betrayal, Albus knew, having always been quite fond of the four boys at Hogwarts despite their blatant disregard for rules or homework. "They'd be rushing in there with a host of Dementors within the hour. The poor boy's already been abducted; we're not going to help matters by getting his soul sucked out."

"No Dementors," Daedalus nodded quickly, his top hat wobbling precariously on his head. "They're obviously ineffective against Black anyway. But if we could maybe explain the matter to the minister..." He drifted off, looking towards Albus, and soon all other eyes on the table followed.

The old man sighed silently.

 _For Harry._

"We will try for one more month," he said finally, "If we have not managed to find him by then, I will talk to the minister."

* * *

 **Bit shorter this time, but the next one will be enormous, so you will be compensated.**

 **And before anybody asks, yes I did steal that chapter title from Game of Thrones. Sue me. (Please don't)  
**


	8. There be Pirates Here

**No idea how it happened, but this chapter is actually close to 10k...I hope you have some time. ;)**

 **alix33: Sorry about the broomstick...but it was super old, after all. (And I needed the tension, obviously...) I wouldn't blame Dumbledore for not giving Sirius a trial, as it was clearly Crouch's call. He did not intervene, true, but to be fair neither did Remus or anybody else, so blaming him personally for it seems a bit harsh. One could argue that he benefitted from it, as it meant he could put Harry into Privet Drive, but as I said before I'm not planning to make this a bashing fic, so I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt.**

 **CaseLC: It is, but I first read that in GoT, so that's where I got it from. Didn't know Martin had also stolen it somewhere. About the werewolf, I think there is a little comment along those lines in the next chapter, but I plan to mostly stick to canon, i.e. the wolf is violent and destructive at all times.**

 **paradoxed: Really sorry about that! I do take that approach to writing (for this fic, I'm actually over a week ahead of posting), but the AN I only add right before posting, and outside Word, which means there's no spellcheck. I'll be more vigilant from now on, thanks for the tip!**

 **Enjoy the chapter :)**

* * *

 **There be pirates here**

It was quiet in the big house. Not really quiet, of course. There was an assortment of noises, squeaking, groaning, creaking...the breathing sounds of an old building. Before, Harry had barely noticed them. When he was with Sirius and Remus, sitting by the warm fire, laughing or talking or playing one of their exciting wizard games, there was nothing scary about the house at all. It was big, yes, but that only made it more exciting whenever Sirius or Remus went exploring with him. It was a bit dark in some corners, but that only made for interesting treasure hunts – he'd never know what he might find.

At night, however, the house seemed to transform, to grow darker – not just because there weren't any lights on; this was a darkness that he could actually feel on his skin – larger, _alive_. The sounds grew louder, more ominous. Was that just the wooden floor creaking or was it something growling? He remembered the dragons Sirius had mentioned existed. Would one fit in his wardrobe? He wished his godfather hadn't insisted on buying the bigger one... And was that Remus he could hear walking down the corridor or somebody else? A vampire, maybe? Dudley had once told him that vampires lived in cupboards, and that they ate anybody who dared walk into theirs. Was that also true for whole rooms? Had he inadvertently stolen the vampire's living quarters? Was the spurned creature coming to eat him?

And then there was that soft banging noise. _Tock. Tock. Tock._ It was like someone knocking...or the sound of someone walking with a wooden leg.

 _Red light. Shouting. A face like that out of a nightmare, charred and broken. And a bright glowing eye, burning into his soul..._

Harry shot up, feeling sweat run down his back.

 _He's gone. He's gone. Sirius told you he can't get in here, he can't hurt you._

But he couldn't supress the low whimper escaping his mouth when he remembered that horrible incident three days ago. The worst thing was knowing that while he might not be able to get inside, the pirate _wasn't_ gone. He was _just outside their front door._ He couldn't see him – Remus had explained to him that he was under an invisibility cloak – but he _knew_ he was there. Watching. Waiting. For Harry.

Another door creaked. He wished he had a lamp, like in his cupboard back in Privet Drive. But apparently wizards, or at least this house in particular, did not have electricity. There were gas lights in the hallways and the bathrooms, although Harry was rather certain they worked with magic, and fireplaces in almost all the other rooms. Harry had a candle on his bed stand, but he didn't know how to light it with magic, and he always burnt his fingers if he tried to use matches. The light from the street lamps outside was shut out with heavy red curtains, because Harry hadn't like the idea of the blue-eyed pirate staring at him while he slept.

 _You just have to wait until it is morning. Surely it can't be long now; you've been lying here for hours..._

Another series of steps, this time above him. What were Sirius or Remus doing up there? They hadn't cleaned out those rooms yet... Harry deeply regretted not having taken Remus' advice and slept in the hammock. A vampire would have a much harder time sneaking up on him there, suspended in the middle of the room.

He considered taking his blanket and making a run for it, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the relative safety of his bed, even at the prospect of another, more secure sanctuary. Who knew how fast that dragon in the wardrobe was.

Once more he wished they had never gone to the mall. Of course he was grateful for all the new things Sirius and Remus had bought him, and it had been exhilarating to have something that was just _his_ for once, but he felt that he would gladly return to Dudley's baggy clothes if it meant that he could sleep on the sofa downstairs again, with Sirius and Remus' soothing breathing to remind him that he was safe.

A church bell sounded somewhere, and Harry strained to count its chimes. Two. He forced himself to close his eyes once more, willing himself to go back to sleep, but that only made the noises worse. With another whimper, he pulled the blanket over his head, trying to shut out the frightening house and its gloomy darkness. After a while, he slid back into his dreams, full of shadowy figures and evil eyes.

Harry was silent at breakfast the next morning, but while Sirius and Remus had usually tried to cheer him up and distract him the last few days, today they both kept rather quiet as well. The dreams were getting worse. Three days had passed since that terrible incident, and Harry's nightmares were growing darker every night. Even the days had gotten quieter, gloomier. Sirius had been very cheerful on the day after, setting up all the new furniture in Harry's room while Harry watched, trying to look enthusiastic. Remus on the other hand, while certainly friendly towards Harry, had been increasingly withdrawn, and once or twice Harry had seen him in the drawing room, sleeping on the sofa. He looked ill. Sirius' carefree demeanour had faltered somewhat as well as the days went on, and even though he still tried to occupy Harry, playing games or showing him photos of his parents, he didn't protest so much anymore when Harry declined and withdrew into his own room. Now that Harry thought about it, he looked rather frightened. As he watched Remus' gaunt expression, Harry wondered if Sirius and Remus had nightmares, too. But then he remembered that they were adults, and adults didn't have nightmares, did they?

Neither of them objected when Harry, having deposited his dishes in the sink, retreated back to his room. Like he had done the days before, Harry climbed into his hammock and picked up the book he had left there the evening before.

He had never been a great reader – there generally weren't many books in the Dursley home, and certainly none for children, as Dudley would rather stare at the ceiling for hours than opening one – but these past few days, he had increasingly taken a liking to it. Remus had set up one of the bookshelves from the library for him, and filled it up with all of his old children's books. There was still a lot of space on the shelf – "Don't worry, Prongslet, knowing Moony he'll have it filled up for you before winter," Sirius had grinned – but for now it was more than enough. There were both magical and normal books, as Remus had told him that his own mother had been a muggle, and while Harry had at first been fascinated by the moving pictures and the exciting new titles, he had now gone back to reading the more familiar, still books. There was something soothing about immersing himself into other worlds that, while mostly fictional, felt wonderfully mundane, treating magic as just that: fiction. For a few hours he could pretend that he was still just Harry and that t faceless crimson hunters and terrifying pirates only existed in stories. And stories, while sometimes scary, always ended well. There might be hardships, there might be tears, but at the end waited the promise of a happily ever after, the bad guys defeated and the good guys victorious. Real life was so much scarier.

"Harry?" His head shot up. He had been so absorbed by his book that he hadn't even noticed the door opening. Sirius stood in the doorway, a steaming mug in his hand and a cautious smile on his face. "Thought you might like some hot chocolate – don't worry, Remus made it." He grinned, but it could not hide the worry that creased his features. "Is everything alright?" he asked, stepping further into the room when Harry made no move to retrieve the chocolate.

Harry nodded hastily, not wanting to talk about pirates or nightmares. "Don't get up, you look comfortable," Sirius said quickly when Harry made to get out of his hammock, bridging the distance between them and handing him the mug. "What are you reading?" Harry held up the book for him, and Sirius frowned. " _Charlie and the chocolate factory?_ " he read slowly, before a grin swept over his face. "Yeah, that does sound like a book Moony would own. What's it about?"

"Dunno," Harry mumbled, not looking at his godfather. "I only just started." It was technically not a lie – he had only read the first four or five chapters – but he also didn't feel like explaining it to Sirius. "Oh," his godfather made, and Harry winced to hear the disappointment in his voice. "I'll leave you to it then, shall I?" His tone was cheerful, but Harry thought it did not sound as sincere as it had before. He didn't look up, breathing with relief when he heard the door shut behind Sirius.

Harry stayed in his room most of the day. He came down for lunch to find Sirius alone in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot with his wand, a look of worried concentration on his face. "Remus's not well," he explained, "So you'll have to do with my cooking. I apologize in advance." While he was turned towards Harry, his wand still pointed at the pot, there suddenly was a horrible hissing noise, and steam erupted from the stove, followed by a pungent smell of burnt socks. " _Shi-irt!_ " Sirius exclaimed, looking distinctly panicked now.

As he was still trying to salvage their lunch, or at least the pot, Remus came stumbling into the kitchen, evidently alerted by the terrible stench that had now engulfed the whole kitchen and was drifting into the hallway. Despite looking like he might drop dead at any moment he managed to clear the smoke with a flick of his wand and set about making a replacement lunch while Sirius alternated between apologizing profoundly to Harry and admonishing Remus for having left his bed.

Afterwards Harry retreated back to his room one more, but he couldn't quite concentrate on his book anymore. Remus had looked _really sick_. Harry remembered the blood that had stuck to his jumper after the pirate hat attacked them. At the time he had assured Harry that it was nothing, that he could heal it within seconds just like Sirius had healed Harry's knee.

But what if he had been wrong? If the pirate had cursed him somehow? He had gotten worse ever since, looking nothing like when he and Sirius had first shown up on the front steps of number four Privet Drive. Would he keep getting worse? Would he... _die_?

The book dropped into his lap as the frightening possibility hit him. Remus might not be his godfather, but Harry liked him just as much as Sirius. He didn't want him to die, not when he was one of the only two friends he had. Not when he had been injured because of _Harry._

But they were wizards. They could fly, make people invisible, turn into dogs. Surely there was a cure for whatever the pirate had done to him?

 _But if there isn't...if he dies because of you..._

Harry screwed his eyes shut, but the thoughts stayed. _He's not going to die, he's not going to die, he's not going to-_

Footsteps.

 _Above_ Harry.

They weren't Sirius' – his were louder – and Remus hadn't looked like he could climb so much as the stairs to the first floor, let alone wander around in the higher ones.

Fear gripped Harry once more, despite the fact that the sun hadn't even begun to set yet. Vampires didn't come out during the day, did they? But what about dragons? He forced the thoughts away. It wasn't night. He wouldn't be scared.

With fresh determination, he set his book aside, scrambling out of the hammock. There it was again, the sound of soft footsteps above him. An Oompa-Loompa, maybe? They weren't scary. A little weird, maybe, and certainly rather mean, but not dangerous.

He walked towards his door, opening it a crack and pausing once more, listening. It was silent. There was no light coming from under the door of the drawing room, so he suspected that Sirius and Remus were downstairs. Harry pondered his options.

He could go back to his hammock and try to read some more until it got dark, but if he was honest with himself he'd had done quite enough reading for now. He could go downstairs to see if any of the others wanted to play with him, but he didn't think he could stomach seeing Remus, not when he looked so terribly sick ( _because of you!_ ), and he did not feel like pretending to be cheerful for Sirius.

And then, there were the strange noises coming from upstairs. Would he dare to investigate? He had been told not to go upstairs on his own, as there were still many rooms that were only superficially cleared. Another sound, this time that of a door creaking open. And was that a voice he heard?

Slowly, holding his breath while trying not to make a sound, Harry slipped out of his bedroom, casting a cautious glance in the direction of the stairs. But the hallway below lay empty, and the only sound was that of the wireless down in the kitchen. He turned around, facing the next set of stairs that led upwards.

Hesitantly, he stepped towards it, wincing when the first step groaned beneath his foot. But everything stayed quiet, and after a few moments his heartbeat normalized somewhat, and he slowly continued. He didn't go very fast, pausing ever so often with to listen for the noises from upstairs. But the creaking stairs must've scared off whoever was making them, as the second floor remained eerily quiet.

Or maybe they were hiding? Getting ready to attack him the moment he appeared?

Harry paused. He should probably get Sirius...but he did not want to. He wanted to figure out whatever this was on his own.

 _It can't be anything too dangerous,_ he reasoned with himself, _Sirius promised you this house was safe._

And while he might not have known Sirius for very long, Harry was very certain that his godfather would not lie to him. Omit some things, maybe, as Harry had sensed him doing occasionally, but not outright lie.

Assured by that conclusion, he set off once more, determined to find whoever was strolling through the hallways above. But before he even reached the second floor, there was the sound of a door opening, and music warbled from downstairs for a short moment, before it was slammed shut again. Startled by the sudden noise, Harry froze in his spot.

There were voices in the hallway now, as Sirius and Remus appeared to make their way from the kitchen. "Sure you're not going to tell me where you're going?" he heard his godfather ask. He sounded worried.

"Yes," Remus sighed, his voice just as tired as it had been at lunch, if not more so. "What's the point of telling you?"

"You might need patching up tomorrow! I've seen you the morning after, before we could stay with you. And you said yourself it's worse now."

Harry frowned, wondering what they were talking about. It had to be something bad; he'd rarely ever heard Sirius sound so worried. After a moment's hesitation, Harry dropped to his knees and slowly crouched forward until he could see through the banister. Craning his neck, he tried to make out the figures down in the hallway. They were standing next to the front door, with Remus leaning on the wall next to it and Sirius facing him, his arms crossed and a defiant look on his face.

"I've managed on my own for six years, you know," Remus was just saying, rubbing his face in a tired gesture. "I'll manage, I always do." He sighed once more, and after a short pause asked "What are you going to tell Harry?"

Harry ducked further behind the banister, try not to breath too loudly as he waited for his godfather's response. What _were_ they talking about? It sounded like Remus was going away for some time. Maybe to get healed? But then why would he need patching up _afterwards_?

But he'd be going away.

Outside, where the pirate waited for them.

Panic gripped Harry, and he had to restrain himself from jumping up and begging Remus not to go. He almost missed Sirius' answer.

"Not sure...suppose with our current status, the old visiting sick relatives excuse won't work..." He chuckled. "I could always try the one about the badly behaved rabbit..." It had to be an inside joke, because despite his obvious exhaustion, a smile flickered over Remus' face at that.

"I'll just promise him that you'll be back safe and sound tomorrow," Sirius said, sobering. "And you will be, won't you? Can't have me breaking any more promises to him."

Remus snorted. "Blackmail now, is it?" He straightened, taking his coat off the hanger and slipping it over his shoulders, with ginger movements that would have befitted a man thrice his age. "I promise," he relented, when Sirius kept staring at him. "I'll send you a Patronus as soon as I'm awake, _mother_. Try not to set the kitchen on fire again while I'm gone"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "No need to get all snarky, rabbit," he scoffed, although Harry could still hear the worry in his voice. "Just – take care," he said as Remus opened the door. Harry quickly scampered back a few steps and averted his eyes, for fear that the pirate might be there, waiting for him...

The door slammed shut, and only then he realized that Remus had left. His heart plummeted into his stomach.

 _No!_

He must've made some sort of sound, because the next thing he knew steps ascended the stairs, not the soft ghostly ones he had been following, but the familiar stomping of his godfather. Harry quickly scrambled to his feet, trying his hardest not to look suspicious.

Sirius seemed surprised to find him there, but no anger appeared on his face. There was a moment of stunned silence, and Harry wondered if his godfather knew that he'd been listening in. "What are you doing up here, Harry?" Sirius asked with a friendly smile.

"I Just..." Harry tried to come up with an excuse, not wanting to tell his godfather about the strange noises. In the end, he just gave up. "Where's Remus going?" he blurted, unable to keep the fear from his voice.

Sirius paused again, slowly bridging the distance between them until he was a few steps below Harry, on eye level now. "He just has to go away for a bit," he said hesitantly, and despite this vagueness, Harry was oddly relieved not to hear about any sick relatives (or nasty rabbits, whatever that had been about).

But he couldn't stop himself from prying further. "Why?"

"He-" Sirius started, a puzzled look on his face as he paused to rub the back of his neck, looking around the gloomy stairwell as if it might give answers. "He gets sick," Sirius finally said, gaze returning to Harry as the attempt of a smile crept onto his face. He looked very sad. Harry felt his heart hammer in his chest.

 _This is your fault. You made him sick, because he had to protect you, and now he's out there, with the pirate and the crimson hunters._

"Be-because of the man that attacked you?" he managed to ask, his voice trembling.

To his utter relief, Sirius quickly shook his head. "No, not at all. He could fix that easily. This is...he just gets ill occasionally," he explained, looking rather nervous as he stepped from one foot to the other. "But it's nothing too bad, he just needs to go away for a night, and then he'll get better. I promise."

Harry remembered the conversation he had just witness, and how worried his godfather had sounded, and he did not feel terribly convinced. But Remus had promised to come back, after all...

"Don't worry, Prongslet," Sirius said, his smile broadening somewhat as he climbed the last steps to draw Harry in a firm hug. "Moony's tougher than he looks. Did I tell you about the time he ate two pounds of chocolate in one day? We all thought he was gonna die, but he made it through, and even asked for more as soon as he had stopped puking!"

Normally Harry might have laughed at that story, but right now he felt far too miserable to give more than a half-hearted huff. Sirius withdrew, his hands still on Harry's shoulders as he fixed him with his warm grey eyes. "How about dinner? I think I've proven earlier that the only thing I should do in a kitchen is eat, but I'm sure we can come up with something. What do you say to muggle takeout? Do you like pizza?"

Harry felt himself stiffen has panic gripped him once more. "No!" he cried far more urgently than he had intended.

Sirius flinched, obviously not expecting such a strong reaction. "Oh...okay, no pizza. What would you like?"

Harry felt himself starting to tremble at the thought of Sirius going out there was well, to the pirate that wanted to take him away. "I'm not hungry," he lied, not meeting his godfather's eye. "I don't want anything."

There was a short pause as Harry felt his godfather's scrutinizing eyes on him, his hands still on Harry's shoulders. Harry kept his gaze locked to the ancient wood of the step he was standing on, refusing to meet the other's gaze.

"Why don't you want me or Remus to leave the house, Harry?" Sirius finally asked. His voice was different than before, calmer, more earnest. There was no laughter in it, only concern.

Harry didn't answer at once, his reluctance to talk battling the urge to keep Sirius from leaving. "Because of the pirate," he finally blurted, shocked at how weepy he sounded. "He'll hurt you again!" Tears were spilling down his face now, but her barely cared.

 _Remus would die. And Sirius would go, too, and then Harry would be alone, and the Dursley's would come and take him away, and he'd be locked into his cupboard again..._

Arms wrapped around him, and he found himself lifted off the stairs as Sirius pressed him to his chest. "Shhh," his godfather made, and Harry vaguely felt himself being carried down the stairs. "He's not here, little one. He can't get inside, I promised you, remember?"

"B-But Re-Remus," Harry sobbed, not caring at all now that he sounded like a baby. He didn't want to lose Remus, fear crushing his chest like lead.

"He's far too clever to be caught by some pirate," Sirius said, "and he can apparate, remember? They won't even know he's left the house." They had reached the ground floor now, and Harry found himself deposited on the sofa, still on Sirius' lap. "You know how apparating works, don't you?"

Harry nodded, feeling his terror ebb somewhat as he remembered that exciting moment when Sirius had suddenly vanished one breakfast before appearing behind Harry with a plop, ruffling his hair so that he had dropped his toast with an embarrassingly girly scream. Sirius had explained to him that they couldn't appparate in or out of the house, but that the first step in front of the front door was also invisible, and that they could leave safely from there. He was right; the pirate probably hadn't even seen Remus. That thought comforted Harry a little. There were still tears rolling down his face now, and he still felt miserable, but at least he could stop shaking.

Sirius looked relieved at that, and the sparkling returned to his eyes as he craned his neck to look towards the windows, were the last rays of the setting sun were filtering through the curtains. "Tell you what," he told Harry in a conspiratorial tone after turning back towards him, "Why don't we just ask him? I don't think I've shown you this one before." He shifted Harry somewhat so he could reach his wand, before grinning at him. "One of my favourites," he said, before waving the wand and saying a few words that Harry by now recognized as a magic spell. " _Expecto Patronum_ "

Something silvery and mist-like shot out of the tip of his wand, immediately forming into the shape of a large, scruffy dog that Harry instantly recognized. "That's you!" he exclaimed surprised, staring at the silvery white figure that was happily leaping across the room, sniffing the fireplace before returning to them, his tongue lolling. Despite its colour, its nose felt warm as it touched Harry's hand.

"It is," Sirius said, smiling fondly at the strange ghost. "A Patronus is some sort of spirit guardian, and it usually takes the form of your animagus form. It can defend you from dark creatures, but it's also quite useful to send messages." He waved his wand once more, and if told by an invisible command, the dog suddenly raced off, disappearing through the wall like a ghost.

Harry stared after him, completely enchanted. He didn't know why, but the ghost had made him feel better, safer. _A spirit guardian_ , Sirius had called it. He wondered if it also protected him from pirates or dragons. "Where did it go?" he asked when the creatures did not return.

"I sent it to Remus," Sirius explained. "It won't be seen, don't worry. But it'll find him, wherever he is, and he can send his own in return. So we'll know that he arrived safely." Harry turned his head to the wall expectantly, eager to see more of the wonderful guardian. "Should be here any minute now," Sirius said cheerfully when nothing happened after a few seconds, but Harry thought that he could detect worry in his tone.

Fear returned once more, ugly and black. What if Remus _wasn't_ alright? If the pirate had seen him after all? Or if he knew where he was going, and had been waiting for him there? What if Remus was already dead?

A cry of relief escaped his throat when the silvery light finally returned, rushing in through the closed curtains and hovering in front of them. Harry squeezed his eyes, trying to recognize what animal it was, but it seemed to be a rather shapeless cloud of white mist. Before he could ask Sirius about it though, a voice came out of the cloud, wonderfully familiar.

"I have arrived safely and without trouble. There is no trace of anybody following me. I will see you tomorrow." The mist started to dissolve, but before it had fully gone a second cloud came rushing in through the window. "And in case Sirius does set the kitchen on fire again, Harry, there's a bucket of water behind the door. You have my expressed permission to empty it over his head."

As the second guardian disappeared, Harry couldn't help but giggle at Remus' comment, despite the terror that had engulfed him moments earlier, and despite how worryingly tired the voice had sounded. Sirius huffed, mock-affronted, but soon was grinning again. "See? Told you he was fine, Prongslet."

Harry smiled cautiously, but now that the ghosts had vanished his bravery quickly faded, and he remembered his original fear. "But you're still not going out there, are you?" he asked timidly. "I'm really not hungry." That was a lie, but he would rather go to bed without dinner than see Sirius leave. It was something he had gotten used to, after all, so he could probably cope again.

The smile quickly faded from his godfather's face. "Not if you don't want me to," he said slowly, his eyes searching Harry's face as his brows furrowed in thoughts. "But I think I should at least show you how harmless it is." He pocketed his wand and straightened, setting Harry on his feet before getting up himself. "Come on, Prongslet."

Harry felt fear grip him once again as he realized where they were headed. "No!" he yelled panicked, rooting his feet on the ground as he felt Sirius' hand pull on his.

His godfather paused. "I promise you it'll be safe, Harry," he set, meeting his gaze firmly. "And I won't make you step across the threshold. But I don't think you quite understand how safe we really are in here."

Harry's heart still fluttered in panic, but Sirius' warm grey eyes and his encouraging smile at least made him move his feet, and he reluctantly stumbled into the gloomy hallway after his godfather.

The gas lights burnt, but the light they gave off wasn't very bright, and it flickered like that of a candle. While usually he just found it exciting, now the gloomy atmosphere only strengthened the dread he felt, and Harry felt torn between pressing closer to Sirius and running away from him, as he was dragging him mercilessly towards the front door.

"Please don't," Harry whimpered when Sirius drew his wand once more, remembering the pirate and the burning eye. The hand around his tightened, and he felt himself pulled closer to his godfather. "Just one moment, Prongslet," Sirius promised. "And after that you'll never have to look outside again if you don't want to."

He tapped his wand to the doorknob, and there was a series of clicking and rattling noises as several layers of security were unlocked. After the last click there was silence, in which Harry swore he could hear his own heart hammer in his chest.

"Trust me," Sirius said, and opened the door.

Harry instinctively squeezed his eyes shut as the first beams of light crept through the opening crack, but he could feel the warmth of the setting sun on his face, and hear the sounds of cars in the distance. He held his breath, expecting shouting at every moment, the growling of the pirate, the bangs of coloured, deadly light.

Nothing came.

"Open your eyes, Prongslet," he heard Sirius tell him, and slowly, reluctantly, he did, half-hiding behind Sirius. It took him a moment to get used to the brighter light, but when he did, the square was empty of any pirates or glowing eyes. There was a cat walking past the iron fences that separated the houses from the street, and between the trees in the middle of the square he could glimpse the two crimson figures, but apart from that it was eerily quiet.

Harry stared at the crimson people. They had been shouting, too, and running towards him. Not as terrible at the pirate, maybe, but they were still scary. He moved further behind Sirius.

"They can't see us," his godfather told him, taking a step forwards so that he was standing out on the first front step, much to Harry's horror. But the crimson figures, much to Harry's surprise, did not even flinch.

 _They can't see us._

Sirius turned around to him, grinning slightly. "See?" He raised his arm, waving to them. "Oi, you there!" he shouted, making Harry jump. "Think you can hunt down little boys?" One of the two scratched their head; the other kept reading his newspaper.

 _And they can't hear us, either._

Harry felt his terror ease a little. If the pirate was there, hidden under his magic cloak, he was obviously clueless that his prey was right in front of his nose.

 _Maybe Sirius' is right. Maybe he and Remus simply are smarter than the evil people._

His godfather gave one last wave towards the cat, wich was just as undisturbed as the crimson figures, before returning inside and closing the door behind him. "See? Wasn't so bad now, was it?" he asked, smiling.

Harry shook his head. "No." He still felt his heart hammering in his chest, but the choking panic had at least gone away. He even felt a little bit proud of himself. "What about the pirate?" he still asked as they made their way back to the study, remembering his nightmares. "Was he there?"

Sirius shook his head. "I don't think so. Did you see the cat? That was an Animagus, like me. Her name's Minerva McGonagall, and she works for Dumbledore. She is also in the Order."

Harry frowned. "The Order? But weren't those the good guys? You said my parents were in it!" The idea of his parents and the terrible pirate being on the same side was rather alarming.

Sirius hesitated. "They were," he finally nodded, sitting down once more and motioning for Harry to do the same. The look on his face told Harry that he was about to say something serious.

"I want you to know," Sirius began, "that the people out there are _not_ the bad guys." Seeing Harry's mouth open in protest he quickly added. "Dumbledore wants what is best for you. They all do. Even the pirate."

"But he tried to kill you!" Harry exclaimed, shuddering as he remembered the terrible lights and crashes. "He hurt Remus!"

Sirius winced. "He was trying to protect _you_ ," he explained hesitantly. "They – the Order – think that Remus and I kidnapped you. They think I'm a bad guy, remember? That's why they're out there; they're trying to save you."

Harry frowned. The idea that _anybody_ – let alone someone as terrifying at the scarred pirate – would set out to save _him_ , a scrawny little boy who had been abandoned for most of his life, was rather bewildering, and maybe a little bit scary.

"Is that why they were there before?" he asked after a short pause, remembering the strange people who had lurked around Privet Drive the week before his godfather had arrived. "Before you came. The pirate was there, once. And the cat, I think." He wondered why the pirate hadn't attacked him back then. It was hard to believe he was really a good guy, despite what Sirius said.

Sirius nodded. "Yes. They were watching you, in case...well, in case I came by to try and hurt you. Remus was there, too, once or twice. He didn't know I wasn't evil then."

Harry's eyes grew big. "Remus was there?" he asked, feeling an odd mixture of warmth and disappointment rush through him. "Why...why didn't he say hello?" As comforting as it was to know that Remus had been there was well looking after him, not only strange and frightening people, he couldn't help but feel a little bit hurt knowing that Remus had been so close and never even showed himself to Harry.

Sirius paused. "Dumbledore's orders, I suspect," he said after a moment. "He wanted to keep you away from the wizarding world, because he thought it would be safer. Remus _did_ want to meet you," he added quickly, when Harry still looked doubtful. "He just thought you were happy with your Aunt and Uncle, and didn't want to take it away from you. He loves you very much, Prongslet."

"Oh," Harry made, feeling a little bit ashamed of himself for having doubted Remus so quickly. Even more so when he remembered how sick he was right now, and how it still might be Harry's fault, whatever Sirius said.

"The point is, they're not evil people," Sirius continued, taking out his wand while he was speaking and pointing it towards the half-emptied boxes that where still littering the floor. "They are brave and kind and mean well; they just don't know the truth. You don't have anything to fear from them, Harry."

As he watched in fascination how a leather-bound book shot out of one of the boxes and flew towards Sirius outstretched hand, Harry wondered how that could be true when the Order wanted to take him back to the Dursleys. He'd rather have his shoulder cut open like Remus had than go back there.

"I think I should show them to you," Sirius said, opening the book, which Harry recognized as one of Remus' photo albums. It looked different than the one he had seen before though, newer. He glimpsed a few pictures of his parents as Sirius leafed through it, but his godfather didn't stop at them, instead opening a page which only held a single large picture. It was a group photo, several rows of people standing behind each other, like they had had to do in school once a year when the photographer had come to take pictures of them. As he looked at the strange faces, Harry wondered if the grown-ups in them had been forced to say "cheese" as well. Then he remembered that magic pictures moved, and that it would probably look ridiculous.

"That's the Order of the Phoenix," Sirius explained. "There's your Mum and Dad, see?" he pointed towards two figures towards the edge of the frame, half-obscured by an enormous man with a wild beard who looked like he might be an actual giant. Harry felt his stomach contract in the now familiar mix of excitement and sadness as he gazed upon their faces. He had only ever seen one picture of his mother back at the Dursleys, and that had been taken when she was still a girl. It took some getting used to seeing so many photos of them – _moving_ ones at that.

"That's you, isn't it?" he said in an effort to change the topic, noticing the man next to his father. He looked indeed like Sirius, though far younger. "Your hair's short." Having gotten quite used to his godfather's shoulder-length curls, seeing him with his black hair barely reaching past his ears was rather odd.

Sirius grinned vaguely. "Yeah...that was your Mum, actually. I lost a bet to her."

Harry would very much have liked to hear the full story from that, but Sirius already moved on. "That's not what I wanted to show you, though," he motioned for the people on the frame to make room so others could move into sight. Harry felt his blood run cold, and instinctively ducked his head behind Sirius' shoulder, away from the photo.

The pirate was younger as well; his hair was not completely grey, and his nose appeared to be whole. What was most striking was the two normal eyes; no blue, glowing orb of horror. But it was unmistakably him, the claw-footed wooden leg, the furrowed brows, the heavy cloak.

 _He was there. Standing in the same room as my parents, as Sirius. Smiling with them._

Though to be fair, the pirate wasn't smiling like the rest of him, but looking rather unhappy to be there. "He was in a terrible mood that day," Sirius said as if guessing Harry's thoughts. "Called it a waste of time and a gift to our enemies should a copy of the photo fall in the wrong hands. Making us all identifiable and such. He's a bit mental, Moody."

The way he talked about him, it sounded like he was remembering an old friend, a strange, mad friend maybe, but ultimately there was fondness in his voice.

Staring at the pirate's deep frown, Harry wondered how the other people in the photo looked so calm standing next to him.

"He's harmless, really," Sirius said, ruffling Harry's hair. "Your Dad and I actually made fun of him after, and he turned us into ferrets – " he turned a page, and Harry's eyes grew big as he found himself looking as a picture of two identical white ferrets. One of them was trying to climb into some woman's lap – his mother, Harry realized as he recognized her robes from the picture before – while the other appeared to be biting down hard on some shoe.

"That's Remus," Sirius explained with a chuckle as if being turned into a small mammal was no big deal – and maybe it wasn't, given he could turn himself into a dog whenever he wanted – "He actually still owns those shoes, and the hole's still there." Realizing that Harry wasn't laughing, he quickly added, "Moody turned us back after a few minutes, of course."

Harry merely nodded, looking back at the larger picture. He realized Remus was there as well, looking significantly younger – there was barely any grey in his hair, and he seemed to have less scars – and the man with the purple cylinder that he had run into back at Privet Drive.

 _The Order of the Phoenix._

 _The good guys._

"I know he seems scary," Sirius said warmly after a short pause, closing the book and gingerly setting it aside. "I certainly was a little bit freaked out when I first met him, and he didn't even have the evil eye back then." He pulled one leg onto the sofa, turning so that he was facing Harry. "But the point is, Prongslet, none of them want to hurt you. And even if they did, Remus and I would never let them."

His warm grey eyes, so full of promise, of safety, finally drove the rest of Harry's doubts away, and he felt the suffocating dread lift completely. He knew that tonight, the nightmares would probably return, but at least he could keep them at bay during the day.

He felt himself smile.

"Excellent. Now, what do we do about dinner?" Sirius said with obvious relief, ruffling Harry's hair once more before rising to his feet with a grin. "Do you think between the two of us we can manage a piece or two of toast?"

As if in answer, Harry's stomach grumbled, and he suddenly realized how hungry he was. He nodded eagerly, following Sirius into the kitchen. And laughing when he actually found a small bucket of water perched beside the fireplace.

That reminded him of the spirit guardians, and as he watched Sirius rummage around the cabinets to find the bread, he wondered, "Why wasn't Remus' spirit an animal? You said everybody had their own form. Is it because he can't change into his?"

Sirius reappeared from the depths of the kitchen cabinet, banging his head as he straightened and muttering an angry curse. "Oh," he said thoughtfully once he had inspected the back of his head, and apparently found no serious damage, and gave Harry an odd look. Once again, Harry had the feeling he was debating with himself what to tell Harry.

"I dunno," he finally said in a cheerful tone, turning once more to look for something to roast the toast in. "Most wizards still manage to conjure their form. Maybe his Patronus form is a jellyfish? It looked a bit like one, don't you think?" he suggested once he had settled on a rusty looking pan, and experimentally started tapping the buttons on the stove with his wand.

"A jellyfish?" Harry repeated incredulously. After hearing about a stag, a dog, a cat and even a rat, he'd have expected something more...well, _Remus._ If someone as intelligent and kind as Remus was a _jellyfish_ , what would his own Patronus look like? A mental image appeared in his head of a silvery slug floating through the air, but before he could ask further, Sirius just shrugged.

"I never asked him. But it would explain why he didn't become an Animagus, wouldn't it? Not very useful, being all slimy." he mused, wincing as a flame erupted from the tip of his wand, narrowly missing his face. But apart from that short flinch he didn't react, and Harry suspected that flames like that were frequent occurrences with his cooking. He surreptitiously moved closer to the bucket by the fireplace, just in case.

"What do you want on your toast?" Sirius asked after a few minutes of concentrated frying – or burning, judging by the smell, but Harry hoped he was hungry enough to ignore the black edges. Or maybe he could just smother them until he couldn't taste them anymore.

"Jam, please," he said, moving forwards to retrieve it from a shelf; but before he could to so Sirius had already swung his wand and the glass came rushing down on its own accord, towards his outstretched hand. Right at Harry's head.

With a yelp, he dove to the side, his elbow painfully colliding with a chair, but at least avoiding having his head smashed in by a piece of bread spread. "Oh, SH-irt! I'm sorry, Harry, are you alright!?" Sirius rushed over to him, helping him to his feet with a rather panicked look on his head.

Harry nodded, more shocked than hurt. "Yeah, 'm fine..."

 _Magic_ , he decided, _definitely takes some getting used to._

Still looking rather guilty, Sirius deposited the jam on the table and moved to fetch some plates – by hand, this time – before a slow grin crept onto his face. "I must say, Prongslet," he said as he shoved the less burnt pieces on Harry's plate, "That was some seriously good dodging. You're gonna be one hell of a Quidditch player one day."

That was the third or fourth time that Harry had heard that word, yet he still had no idea what it meant. So he decided to ask.

Sirius stared at him, his toast falling out of his hand half-way to his mouth. "Blood-I mean buggerin- I mean...blimely! Have we honestly not yet told you what Quidditch is!?" He seemed amazed and annoyed with himself at the same time.

The rest of the night they spend talking about Quidditch – or listening, in Harry's case – as his godfather explained the game to him, and told tales of what a brilliant player his father had been. Harry couldn't quite make his mind up about the sport itself – while he had quite enjoyed flying with Sirius, it sounded rather brutal, being attacked by cannon balls – but hearing about his father, and seeing pictures of a young James Potter whizz through the sky in scarlet red robes drove every last thought about scary pirates and evil eyes from his mind.

That was, until it was time for bed.

Harry's eyes had been dropping for quite some time now, but the idea of going back to his dark room on his own was rather unsettling, no matter how nice the pirate was supposed to be. There were still dragons and vampires to consider, after all.

And so it did not fill him with enthusiasm when Sirius' glanced towards the small alarm clock that had taken up residence on the big, broken grandfather clock and sighed. "I think it's time for bed, Prongslet," he said, setting aside the old newspaper cutting that had a picture of Harry's father winning some school tournament. "Remus'll kill me if he comes back and learns I've been keeping you up all night."

Harry ducked his head. "We...We don't have to tell him," he tried hopefully, not quite meeting his godfather's eyes.

Sirius looked at him scrutinizing, and for a moment Harry thought he was actually considering his suggestion. "Oh, I think he'd find out," he finally said with a half-smile. "He's devilishly tricky to lie to, I'm afraid."

"Oh," Harry made, gaze dropping. _I suppose I can try sleeping in the hammock. Maybe that really is safer. Or maybe I could ask Sirius if he could conjure that spirit guardian for me..._

"But I think we can find some compromise," Sirius already continued, rising to his feet and dragging Harry with him. "What do you say to a sleepover, Prongslet?"

Harry stared at him "A...a sleepover?" Dudley had had those a few times, when one or two of his friends had come to stay overnight. Harry had always hated those days, because Dudley's friends had found it incredibly strange and funny that Harry lived in a cupboard, and enthusiastically joined his cousin in stomping up and down the stairs in order to make dust rain on his head.

But those friends had lived somewhere else, not in the same room. Dudley had never had a sleepover with Uncle Vernon, for example – the thought alone made Harry giggle.

But he _had_ wished himself back into the study to sleep with Sirius and Remus last night, hadn't he?

"Only if you want to, of course," Sirius said quickly. "My bed's quite large enough for two. If you don't mind sharing with a dog."

Without hesitating further, Harry quickly nodded. "Yes, please."

Sirius' smile broadened. "Go on, then," he told Harry, moving towards the stairs. "Put on your pyjamas and I'll make us some hot chocolate – or maybe just fetch chocolate." Harry, who could still taste the burnt toast in his mouth, nodded again. As ungrateful as it made him feel, he'd rather not try his godfather's attempt at hot chocolate.

Ten minutes later, he was lying in a large, wooden bed with a carved headboard, safely tucked beneath the scarlet duvet. And staring down at the coloured little packet that Sirius had handed him.

 _Chocolate Frog_ , it said.

"They're not... _real_ , are they?" he asked timidly.

Sirius laughed as he dropped down beside him, his won already half opened. "Merlin, no! They're just bewitched." He opened the wrapper and pulled out a piece of frog-shaped chocolate for Harry to inspect. Harry flinched back as the frog suddenly started twitching and trashing in Sirius's grip.

It _looked_ very real.

Seeing his horror, Sirius hastily said, "Really, Prongslet, they're not actually alive. Remember that teapot? There's spells that can make anything move, but that doesn't mean it's actually living. Here." He pulled his wand and tapped it to the frog, which immediately stopped moving. "It's not a very strong spell, it wears off after a minute or so," he said, putting the chocolate in his mouth. "Or if you bite off their head."

Harry looked down at the sweet wrapper in his hands, wondering if the possibly burnt hot chocolate might have been the smarter choice after all. Biting off a moving frog's head – alive or not – sounded rather horrifying.

"You don't have to eat it," Sirius said, examining a small card that had fallen out of his wrapping. "Most people only buy them for this, anyway." He held the card up for Harry to see. It showed a dark-haired woman with a sharp face, who was smiling somewhat strained at him. _Gonerill Gushweed_ , it said below the picture.

"Cards of famous wizards and witches," Sirius explained, "There's hundreds of them to collect. Although these days they don't seem to take the 'famous' part very seriously. No idea who she's supposed to be." He turned the card around to examine the backside, which, Harry now saw, held a short paragraph of text, probably explaining the witch's claim to fame. Sirius made a face. " _British Gobstone champion?_ " he said incredulously. " _That's_ enough?" He shook his head incredulously. "At that rate, I'll manage to get in after all." He grinned to Harry, "Lifelong dream of mine," he explained. "Get into the chocolate frog cards."

Harry giggled, imagining how funny it would be to open a piece of sweets and have his godfather grin back at him. Encouraged by that thought, he decided to be brave and open his own chocolate frog after all. It tried to escape but Harry quickly grabbed it, albeit gingerly, watching with a mixture of fascination and unease as the frog struggled and twitched until it finally froze.

"It's not poisonous," Sirius said when Harry made no move to eat it. "It's actually surprisingly good. Or not surprisingly, given I stole this from Moony, and he only ever eats the finest chocolate. Maybe not tell him I took them, by the way," he added as an afterthought when Harry finally bit off the frog's head – Sirius hadn't been lying, it _did_ taste wonderful – "He can get a bit touchy when it comes to his chocolate... Who'd you get?"

Swallowing the last bite of his frog, Harry eagerly took out the card. It showed a man with a very long, crooked nose wearing half-moon spectacles. He had long silver hair and a beard that seemed to reach to his belt. _Now that's a proper wizard,_ was Harry's first thought. Then he read the name.

"What's- oh." Sirius fell silent as he looked over Harry's shoulder and realized who he was holding, but quickly caught himself, and grinned. "Good one, for your first card. You should start collecting them."

Harry didn't answer, still looking down at the man who was hunting him.

 _The good guys._

The man who had sent him to live with his aunt and uncle.

Had he known what it would mean for Harry? Had he known they were making him live in cupboard?

 _The good guys._

He set the card on the nightstand, quickly swallowing the last of his chocolate. It didn't taste half as good as it had before, the sweet taste turning to ash in his mouth. "I don't think I want to collect them," he said quietly, looking at his lap.

Before he knew it, he felt strong arms wrap around him, and suddenly found himself in a bear hug by his godfather. "Don't think about it, Prongslet," Sirius said, his voice tickling the top of Harry's head. "He just did what he thought best. He was wrong, obviously, and if I ever get a chance I'll definitely tell him so, but he did it to protect you. They all care about you very much. Just as Remus and I do."

Harry didn't feel quite convinced – Remus and Sirius had rescued him, after all, unlike Albus Dumbledore or the blue-eyed pirate – but the safe embrace and soothing voice worked, and he felt himself getting a little less upset. "I like you and Remus a lot better," he still proclaimed, earning himself a chuckle from Sirius.

"I like you a lot better than I do Moody or Dumbledore as well, Prongslet," he said, before releasing him. "Now I'm afraid I'll have to send you off to brush your teeth again, or Remus really will hex me." Harry giggled and slowly crawled out of bed, wincing when his bare feet came into touch with the cold floor.

It wasn't the cold that made him practically run across the hallway to the bathroom though, but the silent darkness that had once again engulfed the house. Evil pirate or not, he was rather glad he would spend the night safely with Sirius.

When Harry came back, Sirius was standing in front of a dresser, his back turned towards him as he turned something in his hands. As Harry got closer, he realized that it was a stuffed toy, an animal of sorts.

"I found this," Sirius said, turning towards Harry and showing it to him. It was brown, had four legs and antlers. It was a...

"It's a reindeer, actually, but we couldn't find a stag," Sirius said with a slight smile, walking over to the bed and setting the toy down in front of Harry. "Your Dad and I bought it when we were in school, as a joke. He had a dog, and I the stag. So we would always have our little versions of Prongs and Padfoot."

Harry stared at the toy, not daring to touch it. It looked old and rather battered, patches of fur missing and one antler bent in the wrong direction. And it clearly wasn't a stag – it even had a red nose, apparently a Christmas toy originally. And yet, looking at it, Harry couldn't help but hold his breath.

 _Dad_.

Of course it wasn't his Dad, it was just a toy, and it hadn't even belonged to his father. And yet, it had _symbolized_ him – and he had helped buy it, after all. For a moment he tried to imagine the scene, the younger versions of Sirius and his father that he had seen in photos strolling through a muggle toy shop, laughing as they searched for their plush alter egos. So caught up in his little day dream was he that he almost missed Sirius' next words.

"You can have it, if you'd like to."

His head whipped up, his mouth falling open. "I-are you- I can..."

Sirius smiled, looking a little sad as he did so, and gently put the toy in Harry's hands. "It should be yours, Prongslet," he said warmly, climbing under the covers himself. "I've held on to it for long enough. And I've got you to cuddle now, haven't I?"

He grinned as he hugged Harry once more, pulling him towards him and started to tickle him. Harry shrieked with laughter, desperately trying to free himself while at the same time taking great care not to drop his new treasure.

When his godfather finally relented they lay breathless for a while, the stag firmly pressed to Harry's belly to protect him from further attacks.

Then he remembered what Sirius had said. "My Dad's name was Prongs?" he asked cautiously. He knew about Remus' and Sirius' nicknames of course, but he had never thought about how his father surely had had one of his own.

Next to him, Sirius nodded, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Yeah," he answered, smiling his sad smile once more. "That's what we called him. 'Cos of his antlers, you know?"

"Is that why you call me Prongslet?" Harry asked further. He had wondered about the name before, although he had never dared asked. An even though he hated to admit it, he rather liked having a term of endearment just for himself, spoken out of affection, not like the "boy" he was used to from the Dursleys.

Sirius turned around so that he was facing him. "Yeah," he said again, his smile growing a little brighter. "That's what we all called you when you were born – well, your Dad, Remus and me, anyway. I think your Mum was a bit afraid we'd turn you into a troublemaker like we had been...I can stop if you don't like it," he added quickly, worry clouding his face.

But Harry hastily shook his head, so vigorously he actually lost his glassed. "No!" Blushing a little when he realized how much like a baby he sounded he added a little calmer, "It's fine, really, I ...I think I like it."

It was true. Nice as it had been to have his own nickname before, knowing where it came from – knowing that it was his father who had given it to him – made it so much more precious. He didn't care that he was maybe a little bit old to be called by his baby name, and that he had always thought it sounded ridiculous when Aunt Petunia had called Dudley by one of his many pet names.

And when Sirius smiled and ruffled Harry's hair and said, "Alright then. Sweet dreams, Prongslet" he felt nothing but warmth run through him that had nothing to do with the thick blanket, or even Sirius arm wrapped around him.

The boy slept peacefully that night, the stuffed reindeer firmly tucked under his arm, and a large black dog paw slung around his shoulder. No dragons crept from the wardrobes of his mind, and the vampires stayed in their cupboards, contend. The dog, too, was safe from nightmares tonight; the darkness of Azkaban for once subsided, kept at bay by the fragile little pup safely tucked to its chest, the pup that was its own in all but blood.

Outside, the silvery light of the full moon filtering through his invisible form, stood the pirate, his watchful blue eye firmly staring at the house he could not see. Waiting. Lurking. Powerless.

* * *

 **Sorry about all that gloom, but I hope I made up it in fluff at the end ;)**

 **Not sure why it got so long, as nohing really happens, but I didn't want to cut it up, so I just decided to post it like this.  
**

 **Next chapter might be a whole week away, as I'm nearing the end of my Bachelor thesis (one more month to go!) and might be short on time to write. I've got enough back-up for to manage one update a week until August, but I might drop the Wednesday one in order not to run out before. Sorry!**


	9. The Other One

**Thanks for all the well-wishes for my thesis! You guys are super nice :)  
**

 **Arianne: There will be, though probably not in this story. I plan to keep it rather short (about 20 chapters maybe), but there's at least one or two sequels planned, so we will get there eventually.**

 **Skybox: Dammit! You guessed my idea for the ending! :D**

 **CaseLC: They could, though they don't really dare to. It will be addressed in a future chapter, actually. (I feel like I'm saying this a lot in these ANs...sorry about that, I just don't want to spoil anything.)**

* * *

 **The Other One**

„You shouldn't have apparated"

Remus rolled his eyes, wincing as it reopened the cut on his eyebrow. "What would you have suggested?" he asked dryly, trying to ignore the stinging sensation of Dittany being poured on fresh wounds. "Walking?"

Sirius snorted. "Call _me_ , prat," he said with a vindictive jab of his wand at one of the few regions of Remus' arm that weren't covered in blood or bruises. "I'd have come and gotten you."

"Didn't want to wake you or Harry up," Remus sighed, feeling his strength leaving him. Somehow he had managed to summon the energy to get dressed and apparate to Grimmauld Place after transforming back this morning, but now that the adrenalin was leaving his body he felt nothing but pain and exhaustion. "It's six in the morning."

"Worked out well, hasn't it?" Sirius said sourly as he tried to wrap bandages around the long gash where Remus had splinched his arm. The animagus had been woken ten minutes ago by the screaming of his mother's portrait as Remus had practically fallen through the front door.

"Sorry," Remus mumbled, closing his eyes. "Just leave it, I'll do it later." All he wanted to do now was sleep. He'd even do it in this uncomfortable kitchen chair if he had to.

"And have you lose your arm? Bright plan, Moony" Sirius voice dripped acid, though Remus knew that it wasn't because of the unkind waking call, but out of worry for him. "Besides, Harry will freak out if he sees you like this. I had enough trouble getting him to sleep last night."

Immediately, Remus' tiredness vanished. "Harry's not been sleeping well?" he asked, eyes snapping open. He had worried, of course, with the boy being as quiet as he had been recently, but with his own pre-moon exhaustion Remus hadn't given it as much thought as he probably should have.

Sirius nodded darkly, his false anger giving way to earnest depression. "Scared out of his wits. Apparently he's been thinking Merlin knows what about Moody; that he cursed you, that you're going to die, and that he's coming to get him... _the pirate_ , he called him. Almost started crying when I suggested to get some takeout, and practically begged me not to go outside."

Remus closed his eyes. "Merlin," he muttered, dread flooding through him. He'd had no idea...but of course Harry had been terrified. They had all been a little bit freaked out by Moody when they first met him, and they hadn't been seven years old and known they were wizards for less than a week. "How is he now?" he asked.

Sirius shrugged, resuming his work on Remus' wounds, but his eyes stayed clouded. "He seemed fine when I left him, still sleeping. I let him stay with me this night. I..." He paused, his face twisting in a grimace of guilt and despair. "I made him go to the door and look outside," he admitted finally, his hands dropping at his sides. "He was practically crying, and he was so afraid, and I _forced_ him to go outside..."

Remus stared at his friend, but then realization struck him. "You had to," he said quickly, still shuddering at the thought. "Waiting would've only made it worse." It was true, of course – he himself knew how crippling fear could be.

After he was bitten, he'd been deathly afraid of wolves, and done his utmost to avoid them, even well into adulthood. When he had first met one on one of their Order missions, a pet that some eccentric pureblood had kept, he had been frozen with fear, unable to even raise his wand as the Death Eaters closed in on them. If it hadn't been for Sirius' and James' quick reactions he'd surely have died, and even so their mission had failed, because of him. Because he had allowed his fear to grow so out of proportion that he could not beat it anymore.

And yet he still didn't envy Sirius for the choice he had been forced to make.

"How did he take it?" he asked quietly when Sirius failed to continue.

His friend sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I showed him some photos of the Order afterwards, and I think it helped seeing Moody with Prongs and Lily. Thanks for the Patronus, by the way."

Remus nodded absentmindedly. Last night he had given it barely any thought – by the time the silvery dog had shown up the moon had been so close he could already feel it tearing at his bones – but now that he considered it he wished he'd have sent something more cheerful.

"Although you might as well have given it some proper form," Sirius continued, a frown appearing on his face. "I practically told Harry your Patronus is a jellyfish."

Remus coughed, completely taken by surprise. "What?"

"Well, what was I supposed to say? _Moony's a stupid prat who doesn't like his Patronus form 'cos he thinks it's evil?_ I was trying to relax him, not frighten him further. It'd be a bit hard to explain what's wrong with a wolf, wouldn't it? _I_ don't even see what's wrong with it."

Remus didn't answer, staring at his torn sleeves instead. He felt exhaustion overcome him once more, and had no desire to argue further on a subject they both knew they would never come to an agreement about.

"You should get back to Harry," he said after a few seconds, slowly rising to his feet, trying to ignore the pain that shot through every fibre of his body. "He might worry if he wakes up and you're not there. Wake me if you need breakfast."

Sirius snorted. "You need sleep, Moony. I'm perfectly capable of making breakfast."

Remus arched an eyebrow at him, albeit shakily due to the blood now running down his face. "Are you?" he asked with as much sarcasm as he could muster, "Then why do I smell burnt toast?"

"Oh, sod off werewolf," Sirius muttered disgruntled, still holding out an arm when Remus threatened to fall over as he made his stumbling way across the kitchen. "Just make sure you get well. I promised Harry, remember?"

* * *

When Remus woke later, there was sunlight filtering through the closed curtains, and judging by the angle it had to be past noon already. It quickly became apparent what had woken him, as he listened to the sounds of a dog and a small boy chasing each other through the ancient house, barking and laughter floating through the grim hallways. As Harry didn't sound particularly starved, and there weren't any flames licking on his doorframe, Remus assumed he and Sirius had somehow managed to feed themselves without any catastrophes. Harry sounded happy – exuberant, even – and the worry that Sirius words from that morning had caused in Remus subsided somewhat. Relieved, he sank back into the covers and closed his eyes once more, letting the comforting sound of a child's laughter lull him back to sleep.

When he was woken next, this time by a knock on his door, the shadows had lengthened once more, and the sounds drifting through the opened window were that of a city going to sleep. Remus was rather surprised he had slept this long; usually not even the exhaustion from his transformation kept him in bed for more than a few hours. But then, it had been some time since his days had last been filled with so much activity.

There was a second knock, more timidly this time. Remus scrambled to sit up. "Yeah?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from sleep.

He'd been expecting Sirius, but it was Harry who now opened the door, a steaming mug in his hand and a concerned expression on his face. He looked rather scared as he peered over to Remus, his green eyes flickering over the bandages that covered his arm, and the fresh bruises on his face. Remus was suddenly very thankful Sirius had patched him up this morning, so that he didn't give quite such a horrific sight.

"Hello Harry," he said kindly when the boy appeared to be rooted on the spot, ignoring the pain that shot through his face as he tried to smile. He wondered if Sirius had told Harry to come; the boy seemed everything but happy to be here.

Slowly, Harry stepped forward, clutching his mug with one hand and a stuffed toy in the other. Remus' heart lurched when he recognized the reindeer, the one he had seen so many times perched on Sirius' bed. He knew how hard it must've been for his friend to give it up, and wondered once more in what shape Harry had been last night that it had warranted such a sacrifice.

"A-Are you okay?" Harry asked hesitantly, stopping a few paces in front of Remus' bed. It was worry that shone in his green eyes, Remus now recognized, not disgust.

"I'm quite alright, Harry, thank you," Remus said quickly, slipping his injured arm under the covers. "Just a few scratches."

"Sirius said you had to go away to get better," Harry continued, eyes still huge as he examined the bruises on Remus' face. "But you don't look better," he added quietly.

Remus felt his throat tighten at the concern that laced the boy's voice. He felt deeply touched that Harry would worry so much for him, but it broke his heart to be the reason for his upset. "I will be soon," he reassured Harry, managing a more convincing smile this time. "I'm feeling much better already."

It was true, actually. Now that he thought about it, this moon had been far gentler than usual. Of course there had still been anger and hatred, claws and blood, but the beast had been tamer, more the way it had been back at school, before Prongs, Padfoot and Wormtail had joined it. Maybe some part of it had known that it was no longer alone, that part of his pack had returned, and that there was a pup waiting for him at home. Whatever the reasons, Remus was not lying when he told Harry that he felt fine.

Relief flooded Harry's face, and he hastily held out the mug he'd brought with him. "I made you some tea," he said, looking proud and fearful at once. "Sirius showed me how to do it. He said you liked milk in it."

Remus smile broadened, and this time he barely noticed the pain. "Thank you, Harry," he said, gingerly taking the cup from him, "That's very kind of you." When he noticed Harry lingering next to his bed uncertainly, he padded the mattress next to him with his free hand. "Would you care to sit down? I'd love to hear about your day."

Harry eagerly nodded and climbed under the covers next to Remus, the stag still clutched to his chest. "Sirius told me about Quidditch!" he reported excitedly, evidently just as enthralled by the sport as his father had been, even though he had never played it.

As he listened to Harry's enthusiastic tales, answering a few questions here and there, Remus sipped his tea, struggling very hard to keep a straight face while he forced himself to swallow. Whether it was due to Harry's inexperience or Sirius tutelage – the man had been known to burn muesli, after all – this watery, milky mixture was about the vilest thing that he had ever tasted, and did not deserve the name 'tea' in any way. But it was Harry who had made it for him, and Remus would rather drink pure aconite than reject his work.

"...and then he apportated, but that was cheating, wasn't it?" Harry finished the tale about his and Sirius game of chase, and Remus quickly nodded.

"The term is _apparated_ , but yes, it is most certainly cheating." He frowned, before and idea struck him. "Next time he does it," he said, feeling a mischievous grin slip on his face – he really _was_ feeling much better than usually – "take one of these-" he fished a small bundle out of the drawer on his nightstand and held it out to Harry, "and throw it at him, just when he turns. If you do it right, it'll follow him and explode once he reappears."

Harry took the bundle, if rather hesitantly, and looked it over sceptically. "What is it?"

"Itching powder," Remus said, wondering if muggles had their own variation that Harry might be familiar with, "Not very strong, and not dangerous at all, but annoying for a few minutes. A just punishment for cheating, don't you think?"

Finally, a grin spread on Harry's face as he seemed to warm to the idea of fighting Sirius' dirty tricks with some of his own – he _was_ James Potter's son, after all. "Thank you!" he said brightly, carefully storing the powder in his trouser pocket.

"Only fair after you made me such nice tea isn't it?" Remus smiled, thinking that if Sirius really was responsible for this brew of hell, then it was quite fair payback indeed. "So what else did you do apart from being cheated on by your godfather? Did you have lunch?"

Harry nodded. "Sirius made crisp and Bertie Botts bean salad," he said, grinning – Remus' felt his stomach churn at that, and seriously considered getting up to hex Sirius for providing such an inappropriate meal for a seven-year-old – "and I read some more. I really like the books you gave me!"

The idea of culinary vengeance vanished in an instance as Remus felt his heart swell. "You did?" he said, wondering why his voice sounded choked all of a sudden. "What did you read?"

"Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," Harry answered, "but I didn't finish yet. It's awesome, though. I really like the part where Augustus fell into the chocolate lake..." he stopped, looking slightly guilty, and Remus couldn't help but chuckle. "Yes, I thought you might enjoy that part," he said, remembering the horribly obese child that had stood between Petunia and her husband. Harsh as it might be, he could very well understand why Harry might like the idea of having his cousin treated that way.

"I rather liked it myself when I was your age," he said instead, remembering how enchanted he had been at six years old. "I always wanted to see an Oompa-Loompa, and was heart-broken when my father told me they don't exist."

Harry's head whipped around. "They don't?" he asked, frowning, and Remus winced at his own tactlessness.

"I'm afraid not," he said apologetically. "It's a muggle book, you see? The author made them up."

"But muggles have books about wizards, too" Harry objected, "and they are real. Are you sure there are no Oompa-Loompas? Maybe just nobody found one yet."

Remus felt his smile return. "That might be true," he agreed. "Maybe you can go look for them when you're older? Become an explorer?"

Harry beamed.

Feeling encouraged by the boy's obvious lack of fear given his current state, and thinking that Sirius could probably use a break, Remus wondered, "Do you want me to read the rest of it to you?"

Harry didn't answer immediately, and Remus winced. He was a boring, bedridden grown-up who simply happened to live with Harry's godfather. And Harry probably didn't even like to be read to, and-

"Would you do that?" Harry asked, green eyes wide open. "Aren't you too sick?"

And Remus realized the real reason for his hesitation. _No-one's ever read to him – no-one he can remember, anyway._ He swallowed quickly to get rid of the lump in his throat, and hoped his smile didn't look too sad. "I think I can probably manage a few chapters, if you would be so kind and fetch the book."

Harry was up in an instant, racing from the room like a certain Animagus who had smelled sausages. Remus used his short absence to vanish the rest of his now cold 'tea' and set down the mug on his nightstand, where it joined an assortment of others that he hadn't bothered to clean up before his departure.

He remembered the only other time he had read to Harry. It had been shortly before James and Lily had gone into hiding, one of the last times he had seen them. He and Peter had volunteered to babysit Harry, but Peter had cancelled at the last minute because of some obscure relative getting sick – thinking back, Remus shuddered as he realized that the traitorous rat had probably met with Voldemort that day – and Remus had been left on his own with the toddler. At first he had been terrified. Death Eaters might be out to kill him, full moons might tear his flesh, but at least he knew how to deal with them. There were no counter-courses or pain potions to deal with crying babies.

It had been more out of desperation than any real thinking that he had started reading to Harry, and the book – _A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ , if he remembered correctly – had hardly been appropriate for a child his age. But somehow it had worked, and by the time Lily came to pick him up, she had found a very relieved looking werewolf and a peacefully sleeping son.

Panicked as he might have been, Remus later remembered that day with nothing but fondness. Because for one afternoon, just a few hours, he had allowed his mind to wander, to imagine what might be, what could be if only...

Stomping in the hallway announced Harry's return, and seconds later the seven-year-old stormed into the room, no hint of his earlier reluctance as he flung himself at the bed. "This is where I'm at!" he announced proudly, pushing the opened book over to Remus who took it gingerly, taking care not to upset his injured arm as he awkwardly held it with one hand.

"You're nearly through!" he exclaimed, rather impressed at Harry's speed. Then again, he _had_ spent a lot of time in his room recently. "We'll have to make sure you don't run out of books." Mentally, he was already scanning the list of library books he had binge-read as a child and wondering which ones Harry would like.

 _This is what it would be like;_ he thought as he adjusted his position and cleared his throat, _if only you had not been bitten._

Yet he had, and the child huddling next to him listening with big eyes would only ever be another's, never his own.

* * *

Sirius found them later, both fast asleep.

Harry was sprawled across Remus's chest, the stag firmly in one hand, while the werewolf had his arm around him, the forgotten book lying next to him.

Sirius made to withdraw silently, but Remus' eyes opened, making him linger. "Are you okay?" he mouthed.

Remus nodded, carefully shifting in a more comfortable position without waking Harry. It was dark outside, and judging by his grumbling stomach it had to be very late.

"Need help?" Sirius asked quietly, grinning at his friend's efforts to disentangle himself from the sleeping boy.

"I don't want to disturb him" Remus said softly, but he couldn't ignore the cramping in his leg and felt rather grateful when Sirius stepped closer and carefully picked Harry up.

"I'll take him to bed. You stay here; I'll bring you something to eat."

Remus nodded and watched Sirius vanish down the hallway, before he slowly swung his legs out of bed and searched the room for some fresh clothes. He could still taste the horrible tea, and had no desire to submit himself to any more of Sirius' culinary ventures.

"I told you to stay in bed!" his friend complained when he found him in the kitchen fifteen minutes later, clutching a fresh cup of Earl Grey and slowly chewing on some shortbread he had found in the back of the kitchen cupboard.

"M'fine," he mumbled, still feeling tired but not wanting to return to bed. It was past midnight, and he knew he'd only wake up again after an hour or two. No point in going to bed anymore; he'd catch up on sleep the next night. "How is he?"

"Didn't even blink when I put him to bed," Sirius said, falling down on the chair opposite. "I set up a spell to warn me when he wakes, in case there are any...any more nightmares." His face clouded over once more, and the piece of shortbread he had picked up was crumbled has his fists clenched. "I have half a mind to go out there and blast Moody off the street," he muttered darkly, "They already think I'm a mass murderer, might as well earn it."

Remus didn't immediately answer, watching his friend's face as he tried to gauge the situation. He wasn't sure what to feel himself – of course he had expected the Order to hunt them, and while Remus felt shocked that Moody would open fire on a child, the Auror had probably thought he was saving him from two Death Eaters. Once more he wondered about his letter, and if it had even reached Dumbledore.

"You will do no such thing," he said finally when he had come to the conclusion that Sirius might actually be, well, _serious_. "Not to mention alone traumatizing Harry, you won't be on the run forever. We'll clear up this whole mess, and then you'll be a free man again. Do you really want to jeopardize that?"

Sirius snorted and, disgruntled, stuffed the remains of his shortbread in his mouth. The vengeful fire in his eyes had dimmed, and he looked as depressed as he had that morning. "Free man?" he laughed humourlessly. "Yeah, sure. When gnomes fly."

This new bout of depression was like a punch in the gut, but Remus forced himself to stay cheerful. He was still uncertain as to the aftereffects of Azkaban, and since Sirius had made it very clear he would not talk about it, Remus was left to guessing how affected his friend really was.

"They do if you throw them hard enough," he offered, smiling half-heartedly. But Sirius wasn't even looking at him anymore, his gaze fixed on the table as he seemed deep in thought.

"How do you do it?" he asked abruptly after several minutes of silence, pulling Remus out of his study of the milky clouds swirling in his tea.

"Do what?" he asked, puzzled. He was relatively certain that Sirius was neither talking about throwing gnomes nor making tea.

"Be so relaxed with Harry," Sirius continued, still staring at the table top. "You're just...you don't worry at all. You're so confident, and he's always calm with you. How do you manage it?"

Remus stared at his friend in disbelief. "M-manage?" he repeated incredulously, wondering how on Earth Sirius had gotten the idea that he was in any way confident when it came to handling Harry.

"He was crying so much yesterday," Sirius barely seemed to register Remus' voice, "And I kept wondering if things had gone better if you'd been there. I just...I remembered your wolf thing, and I dragged him outside so it wouldn't happen to him, but it was so _horrible_ , and then I couldn't even make dinner properly...I can't help thinking that they should've chosen you, not me. I'm not fit to bring up a child! I mean, Lily actually _forbade_ me from procreating!"

Despite his shock and anguish, Remus couldn't supress the chuckle as he remembered that particular exchange. "That was because you were trying to name her son _Arthur Uther Pendragon Potter_ ," he pointed out, before quickly sobering when he realized just how earnest Sirius was. "You can't honestly believe that I'd do a better job," he said quietly, wondering when Sirius had come to think so lowly of himself. The 21-year-old who'd been appointed godfather would never for one moment have paused to maybe even consider failure. But then, that man hadn't spent six years in Azkaban blaming himself for his best friends' death.

"Harry adores you," he continued more firmly. "He loves you. He doesn't blame you in any way for what happened, and neither should you. It's not your fault the Order is hunting us. You did what you thought best when you took him away from the muggles – and I wholeheartedly agree – and you are still doing what is best for Harry. And I could never replace you. I'm..." he paused, remembering how nice it had felt to read to Harry, and how comfortable the boy had seemed. "I'm his godfather's friend. I think he likes being around me, but it's you he needs. Maybe that's why it's easier for me," he added after a moment of thought, "because I'm only ever the substitute."

Sirius winced at that. "Don't talk like that; you're not a _substitute_ , Moony!"

But Remus didn't really mind. It was true, after all; that's how it had always been. James Potter and Sirius Black, the brightest boys in school, brothers in all but blood. And then there had been Remus and Peter, _the other two_. Not that James and Sirius hadn't included them; in fact, all of the four boys had been closer than most other friendships at Hogwarts. But it had never been quite the bond that had existed between James and Sirius. And Remus hadn't minded, content, happy with having friends at all, wonderful friends at that. It was so much more than he could ever have hoped for.

"I'm not Harry's godfather, though," he quickly said, not wanting to relay all of that to Sirius. "Ultimately, it's not me who's responsible. Of course it's harder for you. But you're doing a brilliant job, considering the circumstances. Harry's happy, safe, he's well-fed ..." He paused, remembering the unconventional lunch. "Well, maybe there's some work to do in that department..."

Sirius grinned sheepishly, some of the darkness lifting from his face. "I made him brush his teeth, though!"

Remus arched an eyebrow. "Was that before or after you raided my chocolate stash?"

The last of Sirius's depression faded as a guilty expression came onto his face. "How di-That was Harry!"

The eyebrow wandered higher. "Are you honestly stooping so low as to frame a seven-year-old for your thievery?"

"Well, it was _for_ Harry," Sirius weaselled, his eyes flickering nervously towards Remus' wand hand. The werewolf had been known to go to drastic measures to preserve his chocolate stock back in Hogwarts. "And it was educational; I introduced him to the trading cards!"

Remus snorted, but had to chuckle nonetheless. Sudden as his changes in mood came, this mischievous Sirius was far more enjoyable than the brooding self that he had brought with him from Azkaban. "Talking about education," he said, remembering something that he had been meaning to bring up, "Don't you think we should do something about Harry's? I know we can't send him to a muggle school, but we have to do _something._ " So far, Harry had seemed very bright and well-versed to Remus, but he knew more would have to be done if it was to stay that way.

To his surprise, Sirius didn't even seem the slightest bit concerned. "Well, that's not hard, isn't it? You're gonna teach him, obviously."

Remus blinked. "Me?"

"No, the other werewolf bookworm currently living here," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "Of course you. Lily already asked you, didn't she? And I remember you saying yes. But if it helps, I'll pay you."

Remus bristled. "I'm already eating your food, I don't want your money," he hissed, but his annoyance quickly faded when he remembered that he had indeed promised Lily and James he'd teach their son when he was old enough. But that felt like a lifetime ago, when his life had still been whole, and when his responsibilities to Harry stretched only so far as to occasionally babysit him and maybe remember his birthday. Now, however...

"Oh please, don't act like this is a surprise," Sirius scoffed, stuffing a piece of shortbread whole in his mind as he was apparently finding his appetite once more. "Who else is gonna do it, me? You told me yourself I have the reading level of a five-year-old. Besides, I'm trying to be the fun parent. You can be the annoying one who makes him eat his vegetables and do chores."

Remus rolled his eyes, but still felt a smile creeping onto his face.

The annoying one...yes. He would always be the second choice, the _other one_ , the uncle to Sirius' father. And maybe Harry would grow to resent him once he grew tired of reading and studying, or once he learned the truth about Remus' curse. And no, it would never be his own child that he could tutor. But it was enough. He would get to be part of Harry's life, a second chance to the life he had thought over after that fateful Halloween. It was more than he had dared dream, and he would be truly content.

* * *

 **Hope this wasn't too depressing, but I felt like I hadn't really written much from Remus PoV so I thougth I'd give him a chapter of his own.  
**

 **Got at least five other chapters lined up so far so expect another one by Wednesday as usual :)**

 **And don't forget to review! ;)**


	10. The Curious Case of the Shuffling Noise

**Over a hundred reviews! You guys are amazing! :)**

 **sbmcneil: I'm afraid I disagree with you on the matter of Sirius (and I do apologize for the lengthy ramble that will now follow)**

 **First, him being top of his class doesn't mean he knows how to cook – I study physics, and I've met a lot of very smart people who struggle to cook pasta, or take a huge bag of dirty laundry with them whenever they visit their parents. If higher maths doesn't help you with the practical aspects of life, I don't see how Transfiguration would. Sirius was brought up in a house with a house elf, and later at Hogwarts there were house-elves as well. We don't know if the Potters had one, but we do know that James was very spoiled, so he probably didn't have to help much at home either. Then, when Sirius did live on his own, there was a war on, and I don't think household lessons were top priority at that time. So to me, it looks plausible that Sirius might not be a second Mrs Weasley.**

 **Second, while Remus is portrayed as being very good with children, nothing we read in the books makes Sirius out as a particularly good potential parent – on the contrary; Rowling actually said that he was Harry what he needed in that department, and was instead treating him like a grown-up. Additionally, Sirius has only just gotten out of Azkaban, which won't have helped his mental state. He** _ **will**_ **learn how to be a good parent to Harry in this story, but it seems very unlikely to me that he would be one right from the start. Right now, he's using his juvenile act partly as a way to make Harry more comfortable, and also as a sanctuary for himself so that he doesn't have to deal with the darker thoughts. So he might be acting more "stupid" than he actually is. (Most of this will be at least partially addressed in later chapters.)**

 **That all being said, everybody is of course entitled to their own opinions, and I do acknowledge that I might have exaggerated a bit in an attempt at humour. If my characterization has put you off this story, then I am sorry. :)**

 **Alix33: Sorry to hear about it, but glad you got over your fear** **:) He might have – given she was muggle born, it might even have been her book. I don't think it's Dumbledore who convinced everyone that Sirius was a murderer, it was pretty much the general consent. And Remus believed it too, didn't he? Also, as always thanks for finding all my mistakes :)**

* * *

 **The Curious Case of the Shuffling Noise**

"I can't believe you're making him do homework. His _school_ is at _home_! Everything he does is homework already!"

"It's important for the learning development. And it's character-building."

"I never did mine, and people still say I have character."

"Padfoot." Remus eyes looked up from behind his newspaper as he glared at Sirius with a pointed look.

The animagus flinched. "Alright," he growled, before turning to Harry, who had been following the exchange like the spectator of a tennis match, while milk dropped from the spoon of his forgotten muesli. "It is, of course, not alright to not do your homework," he said in a stern voice, looking uncharacteristically sober.

Harry, who had had no intention of not doing his homework – he had, after all, just asked for help with it – nodded quickly, and his godfather continued with a bright smile. "And of course I'll be happy to help you. What's on the agenda?"

"Maths," Harry said, his eyes flickering to Remus. As much as he loved having him as his teacher, it felt odd talking about his homework with him at the table. But the other man had already vanished behind his newspaper once more and seemed completely oblivious to their conversation. "I already did the writing task last night. And I need to find out something about Greek myths."

"Maths?" Sirius repeated less than enthusiastically, throwing a distinctly loathing look towards the paper. Harry could have sworn he saw a twinkle flashing across Remus' eyes. His godfather sighed. "Okay, we'll get right to it. Just let me finish my breakfast, alright Prongslet?"

Harry nodded and turned back to his muesli, which had gone rather soggy. He wished Sirius would eat faster.

It had been a week since Remus had gone away for the night, and five days since "school" had started. At first, Harry hadn't been particularly enamoured with the idea of having to attend lessons, especially since Remus insisted on doing them in the morning.

It wasn't that Harry hadn't like learning – he might not gotten the best grades, but he had always been one of the better students (better than Dudley, in any way). But that was where the problems had started – His cousin wasn't exactly kind to him on the best of days, and there were few things Dudley had hated more than being bested by "the freak". And, being popular all around, he had quickly seen to it that every other boy also disliked Harry.

Most of his breaks had been spent running or hiding from one or the other bully, or trying clean his clothes and hide the holes when he had failed. Because having a teacher find out was almost worse than the bullying itself, as it entailed letters to the Dursleys – who of course saw it as Harry's fault and locked him into the cupboard.

Due to all this, Harry had a well-developed aversion to anything school-related, and the prospects of lessons with Remus had filled him with dread, as he was now ashamed to admit.

Because, as it turned out, Remus was the best teacher ever.

He was friendly and patient and funny, and he could make anything feel exciting. There were of course no other children that could've bullied Harry, but if there had been, he was certain Remus would never have accepted such behaviour, or even belligerently tolerated it as the teachers at his old school had.

It was amazing how much Remus knew. His teacher at St Edmund's had been smart as well, of course, but Harry would bet his stuffed stag that Remus would beat her any time. He was the smartest man Harry had ever met – with the exception maybe for Sirius, who seemed pretty smart as well.

And his lessons were much more interesting. As it was only Harry, there was no need to wait around for slower students, or monitor thirty different works. Even maths was easy when it was explained to him with the help of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans – which he was allowed to eat once the lesson was over. And additionally, Remus often took time to spin a little story out of the tasks he was giving him – not the boring, one-sentence constructs that they had gotten at St Edmund's, but proper ones that made you actually care about solving them.

Their lessons didn't last too long - usually they started after breakfast, around nine, and stopped about hour or so before lunch – but Harry still had to do homework after.

At first he had reacted exactly as Sirius had, albeit silently, because why would he need homework when he was already learning at home? And it had seemed even stranger when Remus had refused to help him, and told him to instead ask Sirius.

But after doing them on his own for the past week, Harry slowly came to the conclusion that while sometimes annoying – last night he had been able to _hear_ Sirius and Remus laughing in the kitchen while he had been writing his story – they were actually quite decent. They never took too long, and it felt nice to accomplish something on his own. Even more so when he would show them to Remus the next day, and see the proud smile on his face.

Today was Saturday, however, and while he had of course (much to Harry's relief) paused lessons for the weekend, Remus had given him extra tasks, and more difficult ones at that, which was why he had chosen to finally enlist his godfather's help.

Unfortunately, his godfather was a very late riser and an even longer breakfast-er.

"What's that you're reading?" Sirius asked now, snatching up a discarded piece of Remus' newspaper on his way to get more toast. "That's not the Prophet. It's not even wizard, the pictures aren't moving!"

Remus face appeared from behind his paper once more. "Well spotted," he said dryly. "Scotland Yard would be proud to have you, Lestrade." When Sirius only offered him a puzzled frown, he sighed and put down his paper. "Why shouldn't I read a muggle paper? I've got to read _something_ , and I can hardly wander into Diagon Alley on a daily basis."

His eyes flickered towards Harry, who quickly acted like he was engrossed in the slimy paste that now inhabited his bowl. They hadn't spoken about leaving the house again since last week, and even though Harry's nightmares had almost stopped – and crawling into bed with Sirius if he had been woken up by it quickly vanished their terror – he was still not quite comfortable with Sirius or Remus leaving. He knew, of course, that Remus frequently left to buy groceries, but Harry was grateful that he did so whenever Harry was occupied, and always returned before Harry had known he was gone.

"This is actually better than the Prophet," Remus said quickly as if to change the topic, pointing towards his muggle paper. "It's filled with actual journalism instead of prejudice and fear-mongering."

"It's also filled with boring muggle politics," Sirius pointed out, unenthusiastically flicking through the pages he had stolen. "Who in Merlin's name is Margaret Thatcher? And what does it mean she's calling an election? Can I call one, too?" He turned another page, and his face immediately brightened. "Look at this! ' _Dog saves Torquay from relegation_ ' I don't know what Torquay or relegation are, but it sounds like one awesome dog!"

Remus sighed again, snatching the paper away from him. "I do realize that the Guardian is a little above your reading level," he said patiently. "But if you really want a paper, I'll buy you the Sun next time. You'll enjoy Page three at least." He poured himself another cup of tea and put his paper under his arm as he made to stand. "I'll be in the study if you need me. Don't distract Harry from his homework."

"I'm not an idiot, Moony!" Sirius yelled after him annoyed, before turning to Harry once Remus had left. "Do you know who that Thatcher woman is?"

Harry shrugged, relieved to see that his godfather appeared to have finally stopped eating. "Dunno. Uncle Vernon liked her, so she's probably really mean."

"Probably." Sirius nodded, contemplating the massacre he had created on the breakfast table, before drawing his wand and sending the dishes towards the sink with a lazy flick of his wand. There were a few crashes, but he didn't appear to hear them. "Alright, Prongslet," he grinned, rubbing his hands in expectation. "Maths. I once attended half a lesson in Arithmancy, so this should be a piece of cake."

* * *

"Sweet Merlin," Sirius groaned half an hour later. "Why on earth would you need to buy fifty-three bananas?"

"Because the monkeys escaped and you have to lure them back into the zoo," Harry said, pointing to the task that Remus had written down for him, while trying to do the calculations on a separate piece of parchment (he still struggled with the ink and quill that wizards apparently used).

"And why are they only sold in bunches of seven?" Sirius asked further.

"That way they can sell you more," Harry explained. "Because even if you only want one, you need to buy seven. It's very mean. But we can't buy all of them at the nicer store because they're more expensive over there, and we don't have so much money."

"Yes, because ...the government slashed the zoo's budget?" Sirius read, amused. "Moony's really thought this through, hasn't he? And here I was thinking maths was about numbers." He pointed towards the page-long text. "In my day, we didn't even do Maths. I just had lessons in French and Latin."

Harry's eyes grew big. "You speak Latin? And French?" He had never met a person who could speak another language – although Remus probably did, come to think of it – and found the idea quite impressive.

But Sirius merely laughed. "I said I was _taught_ it, not that I actually learned anything." Catching Harry's surprised look, the grin dropped, and he quickly added, rather guiltily, "Which was of course not very smart of me... But I'm afraid my teachers weren't as nice as Moony is."

His face darkened somewhat and Harry was glad when Sirius returned to the numbers. "Well then. Fifty-three divided by seven. Let's do this; the little monkeys need us."

* * *

When it came to the Greek mythology homework, Sirius showed a lot more enthusiasm. "These are cool," he said, watching as Harry skimmed through the book that Remus had given him. It contained a host of exciting stories and even a lot of pictures next to them.

"Look!" Harry exclaimed, grinning at the page he had found. "This one's about Remus!" There was a picture of two babies that were being nursed by a wolf, under the title _Romulus and Remus_. Neither of them looked especially like Remus, but Harry felt excited nevertheless.

He had suspected that Sirius and Remus were actually wizard names, as he had never heard of them before, and wondered why he didn't have one – or his parents, who both seemed to have rather ordinary names as well. But this was a muggle book, so obviously Remus was a muggle name, like Harry's.

"Can we do this one?"

Sirius looked like he was about to start laughing, and for a moment there was definitely a grin on his face. But then it vanished, replaced by a frown. "Dunno," he said hesitantly, rubbing the back of his head. "Romulus and Remus founded Rome, so it's technically speaking not a Greek story...How about we do Perseus? He's got a flying horse!"

Harry didn't think that Remus would actually mind – he was a very lenient teacher, after all – but he nodded nevertheless. Remus probably knew about the story, and wouldn't find it half as amusing as Harry did. And a flying horse sounded quite exciting indeed, especially after Sirius told him that animals like that _actually existed_.

It was almost lunch time by the time they had finished, but Harry didn't mind at all. It was nice spending time with Sirius, having someone to help him with his homework...

 _Like a Dad._

Sirius was, of course, not his father, but it still felt nice to have him around, to know that he cared for him.

Harry was still adjusting to this new feeling, and even though Sirius and Remus seemed to find it the most natural thing in the world, to him, knowing that there were people who cared about him, who would do anything in their power to make him happy, was still an unfamiliar concept, and occasionally almost overwhelming.

"Alright, that should do it. If Moony doesn't give you an O for that I'll have to have some serious words with him at the parent-teacher meeting," Sirius announced when they had finished Harry's story about Perseus fighting the Medusa, and defending his wife Andromeda from her evil uncle Phineas (Sirius had for some reason found that part especially amusing, although Harry didn't really see why)

Harry giggled. "I don't get grades!" he objected. "And O isn't a grade anyway!"

Sirius frowned. "Of course it is! _Outstanding_!"

Harry laughed again, but when Sirius didn't join in he realized that his godfather was serious. "Do wizards have different grades?" he asked curiously.

"Dunno," Sirius shrugged, cheerfully screwing the lid onto the ink bottle. "Which do muggles have?"

"Well...A,B, C and so on," Harry said, feeling a bit strange about explaining to a grown-up what school grades were.

"How boring!" Sirius grinned jumping to his feet. "No, _real_ grades are Outstanding, Exceeds Expectations, Acceptable, Poor, Dreadful and Troll."

"Troll?" Harry repeated, wondering if this was some sort of joke.

But Sirius didn't appear to be joking at all as he waved his wand to make the chair he had conjured for himself disappear. "Yep. But don't worry, Remus would never hand it out. He was such a swot I doubt he even knows it exists. Ready for lunch? There'll be-" He quickly transformed into a dog, sniffed once, and transformed back. "Cottage pie, I believe. Excellent!"

Harry giggled again, delighted by this casual show of magic. He loved it whenever Sirius transformed, as Padfoot the dog was great fun to be around. When they had been hunting Doxies in the curtains of the drawing room on Thursday afternoon, he had even been allowed to sit on Padfoot's back like a mounted knight, riding into battle against the surprisingly vicious fairies. It hadn't been very effective – both Remus and Sirius had actually been bitten once or twice – but great fun nevertheless.

"I'll come down soon, I just need to put this away," he said, dragging out his school bag from where he had kicked it the night before. There wasn't really need for a school bag, as Harry never had to walk further than to the study downstairs where they held their lessons, but Remus had told him that it would be good to keep all his school things in one place, and Sirius had jumped at the opportunity to buy him "one of those cool muggle bags with racing cars on them!"

"Okay, then... Don't forget to wash your hands, Prongslet!" There was a bark, and before Harry could react he felt a slobbery dog tongue run over his fingers.

"Eww!" But Padfoot was already noisily racing down the stairs, followed by the angry shrieks of the horrible portrait in the hallway.

Harry pushed his bag back under the table with his foot, not wanting to touch it now that he had dog slobber all over his hands, and made his way to the bathroom opposite his room.

From downstairs he could hear the sound of the kitchen door open. "Can't you go down the stairs for once without waking her up? You're an adult, for Merlin's sake! You're supposed to be responsible."

There was a happy bark, and a second later Sirius voice. "I told Harry to wash his hands. That's responsible enough for one afternoon, don't you think? ...Wait, is that carrots in there? You _know_ I hate carrots!"

There was an exasperated sigh and steps in the hallway, and as Harry dried his hand the shouting from the portrait stopped. The steps vanished back into the kitchen, and silence descended once more.

But just as Harry set foot on the first step, he heard it.

The noise.

Footsteps, shuffling across wooden floor. Above him.

Harry froze.

He had barely thought about the Oompa- Loompa since last week. Most of his nights had been spent at least partially with Sirius, and during the day he had been far too busy to wonder about the creaking sounds of the house.

But here they were again, steps in the floor above him. He heard laughter sound from the kitchen. If it wasn't Sirius or Remus, who was it?

Remus had told him that Oompa-Loompas weren't real...but then again, he had admitted himself that he might be wrong. And he had suggested that Harry go look for them himself, hadn't he? Become an explorer...

"Harry? The pie's getting cold!"

The shuffling stopped, and Harry flinched, feeling caught. He could just ask Sirius or Remus about the noise, but somehow he did not want to. This was _his_ discovery. His secret. Remus and Sirius had plenty of secrets of their own, after all.

"Coming!" he called, throwing one last look towards the dark stairs that led up to the higher, unexplored floors.

 _I'll come back. And I'll find you, Oompa-Loompa._

* * *

It actually took him until the next day to pursue his plan. After lunch, Sirius challenged him to another game of tag, and Harry finally got to use the bag of itching powder that Remus had given him. He was almost sure he had missed his godfather when he disappeared with a plop, but a second later the bag was gone anyway, and he could hear a shocked yelp from downstairs.

"Merlins's balls!"

Harry flinched as he heard the screams, and his laughter died at once. Had he gone too far? Sirius sounded really angry...

"Good throw." He whirled around saw Remus leaning against the door frame with his hands in his pockets, a crooked smile on his face. Harry felt himself relax at the sight; surely Remus would not be smiling if he had done something bad.

More howls sounded from downstairs, now accompanied by the screaming portrait. "Is he alright?" Harry asked uncertainly, thinking that he should probably go and check but not quite mustering the courage to do so.

But Remus seemed wholly unconcerned. "Oh, certainly. He tends to be overdramatic; don't let that fool you. Padfoot's always been a sore loser." When Harry still looked doubtful, he pushed himself off the doorframe and held his hand out for Harry. "You can help me make dinner if you want; that should cheer him up."

After dinner – there were strawberries with vanilla ice for desert, which he decided were now his favourite food ever – Remus read to him some more (they had finished the Chocolate factory and had moved on the _The 35_ _th_ _of May_ , a very funny story about a boy going on adventures with his fantastic uncle and a talking horse) and then it was time for bed.

He didn't even have any nightmares this time, just a very enjoyable dream in which he and Sirius were wandering through a south sea island. Padfoot the dog was there too, riding on roller skates.

On Sunday he slept in late, so that both Sirius and Remus were already eating breakfast when he came downstairs. Remus was reading a book this morning, while Sirius appeared to be attempting to teach an empty milk bottle how to Waltz.

" _The other left,_ you lactose-brained moron! And it's three, not four – morning Prongslet! Slept well?"

Harry nodded slowly, watching in fascination as the now released milk bottle tumbled across the table a few more times before finally falling over, where it was saved from rolling over the edge by an absent-minded wand flick from Remus.

"I didn't do your eggs yet Harry, how do you want them?"

"I can do them myself, you don't have to get up," Harry said quickly, not wanting to disturb Remus' reading.

"You don't have to cook your-" Sirius started to protest, but to both his and Harry's surprise Remus merely nodded.

"That's very considerate of you, thank you. There's another bottle of milk in the fridge if you need it; just tell me if you need help."

Harry quickly went over to the stove. He knew how to use it by now; Remus had shown him after making a few adjustments so that it could be used without magic. As he was retrieving the eggs and milk from the fridge, he heard Sirius protest behind him.

"Come on," he hissed quietly. "You've been sitting on you ar-butt for hours!"

"If Harry wants to make his own breakfast, I will let him," Remus answered just as quietly, though in a tone that made it clear this discussion was over. "What do you want to do today, Harry?" he said louder now, shutting his book and turning around. "I found an old box of board games lying around. Do you like Monopoly?"

Harry had never played Monopoly – or any other games, for that matter – but found it very enjoyable, especially when Sirius kept trying to steal Remus' money ("No wonder they sent you to prison") or refusing to pay for electricity ("I'm a bloody wizard! I don't even _use_ that muggle nonsense!").

But during lunch Harry remembered the noise again, and decided that now was the time to investigate. So he politely declined Sirius' offer of Explosive Snap and retreated to his room under the pretext of reading.

He sat in his hammock with Prongs, the stuffed reindeer, and waited for the sounds from downstairs to grow quieter, indicating that Remus and Sirius had withdrawn into the study and closed the door. Once he was completely certain they would not hear him he slipped out once more, slowly stepping into the hallway.

Silence.

Did the Oompa-Loompa only come out at night? But he had been there yesterday, before lunch. Maybe he had been hungry? After a short hesitation Harry went back into his room to fetch the chocolate frog that he had won from Sirius in their last game of Exploding Snap. He knew Oompa-Loompas preferred cocoa beans, but he wasn't sure what they looked like or where to find them. And chocolate was made of cocoa beans, so surely the frog would be welcome?

There was still no sound when he came back into the hallway, and so he reluctantly decided to try his luck upstairs.

Now, at daylight and with the comforting feeling of Prongs close to him, the prospect of going to the second floor didn't scare him as much as it had last week, but he still felt a little guilty as he slowly climbed the wooden steps, flinching whenever one creaked beneath his feet.

 _Technically_ he wasn't forbidden from going here...it was just that he wasn't supposed to go up here alone.

 _But I'm not alone; I've got Prongs with me._

He still paused ever so often, straining his ears for any sounds from downstairs. He thought he could hear voices from the radio, and occasionally Remus or Sirius, but the door stayed shut.

The second floor was a lot gloomier than the one below. They hadn't bothered to fix the gas lights, and so the only light came from the window in the staircase. All the doors were closed, and there were thick layers of dust on several of the door knobs. The only door Harry had ever seen open was that to the library, but it was shut now, too.

He felt his determination waver. There was still no sign of the Oompa-Loompa, and he had no great desire to try any of the uninviting doors. Maybe he should ask Remus or Sirius after all? They could go exploring together; surely that would be much more fun than going on his own.

But he also _wanted_ to do this on his own. Before, when he was still living with the Dursleys, Harry had spent most of his time alone; and even when he had been in company, like at school, he had been rather isolated from anybody else.

It was very unfamiliar, suddenly having people around him at all times, and not having to do anything on his own. And even though he was infinitely grateful and didn't miss the loneliness one bit, he couldn't help but yearn for some independence.

He wanted to do something on his _own_.

 _Toc. Toc. Toc._

Harry jumped, almost dropping the chocolate frog.

There it was again. The knocking. Shuffling.

 _Above him._

He hesitated once more, but only for a moment. Clutching Prongs closer to his chest he bravely set foot on the next flight of stairs.

This time, he had barely paused in the gloomy hallway before he heard the steps once more, again above him. It was the same on the next landing, and the next, until he had finally reached the top. The corridor was narrower here, and there were only two doors.

One of them stood open.

Harry stopped, suddenly uncertain. He had never been up here, and Sirius and Remus had explicitly forbidden him from going further than the second landing. But they had also said that all the doors up here had been sealed, and this one clearly wasn't.

Slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, Harry stepped closer.

The room looked different from all the other ones he had seen. It too was covered in thick layers of dust, and there were heavy cobwebs stretching from the chandelier to a broad wardrobe. But the walls were plastered in flags and posters that seemed very out of place in this house.

Red seemed to be a dominant theme, with a golden lion on it – some sort of emblem? – but there were also a lot of very normal pictures, most of them showing motorbikes or, strangely, women in bikinis. The strangest thing was that none of them moved, as all the other portraits in the house did.

How on earth were there muggle pictures in a house this magical?

And then he noticed the only picture that did move. This time he did drop the chocolate frog, but he barely noticed as he hastily stumbled closer.

It was them, there was no mistaking it. He had actually seen the photo before; Remus had a copy of it in his album. There were Sirius and Remus, smiling down at him, there was the horrible man who had betrayed his parents, and ...there was his Dad...Prongs.

For a while he simply looked at the picture, completely mesmerized. Of course he had seen it before, and he could see pictures like that whenever he wanted if he asked Sirius or Remus – Sirius had actually given him a framed photo of his parents that now rested on his nightstand – but finding them here, so unexpectedly, caught him off guard.

But when he did recover he began to wonder about just _how_ it had gotten here. Of course it was possible that Sirius or Remus had put it up, but why should they have done that? As far as he knew they hadn't ventured much up the other landings either, and they hadn't even bothered to decorate the drawing room yet. Surely this room would not be a priority?

He looked around once more, wondering if he had missed something. There was dust everywhere; clearly nobody had been in this room for years. But then how...

Finally, his eyes fell on the open door, and the small bronze nameplate that was on it.

* * *

 **Cliffhangers! We all love those, don't we?  
**

 **I won't be home this weekend, so the next update will be Sunday night or Monday. If you're bored waiting, why not review? ;)  
**


	11. The Ancient and most Noble House of Blac

**Don't have much time today, so I'll just drop this off real quick. Enjoy and have a great weekend :)  
**

* * *

 **The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black**

"I think we should get him a pet."

"Who?" Remus asked absentmindedly, completely lost in the news that were currently being read on the radio.

"Kreacher," Sirius said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Harry, obviously. It sucks that he can't go outside; but maybe we can turn one of the spare rooms into a sort of indoor garden, get him...dunno, a bunch of nifflers or something."

"Nifflers?" Remus repeated incredulously, finally tearing his eyes away from the battered old wireless. "In _this_ house? You do realize they'd all be dead within the hour because they tried to steal some cursed silverware?"

"We'd have to keep them locked up, obviously," Sirius rolled his eyes. "And it doesn't have to be nifflers, just something exciting. I mean, you don't like cats, an owl would be totally pointless, and toads are for weirdos. We have to think outside the box here."

Remus sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I think we should maybe hold off on the whole pet thing for a while. He hasn't even asked for one yet, has he?"

"No, but-"

"Look Padfoot, you can't keep showering him with gifts. It was all fine for the start, and he did need lots of new things, but now it's time for some normality. We can't just spoil him rotten."

Sirius frowned. Remus spoke with a lot of conviction, obviously having thought about this for quite some time. He wondered when this newfound enthusiasm for raising children had sprung up from – maybe one of the new books he had bought?

"We couldn't spoil him if we tried," he objected nevertheless. "You saw how those bastards treated him. We could buy him his own Quidditch team and still not make up for it."

"I did. And I also saw what they did to their own son. Is that how you want Harry to turn out? Because he will if you keep this up."

Sirius fell silent, dumbfounded by the fierce reply. Remus really _did_ take this seriously, didn't he?

 _What about you? Shouldn't you take this seriously, too? You_ are _his godfather._

He swallowed as the guilt crept up in him. Was Remus right? Was he turning Harry into a pampered little prince?

"I just want him to be happy," he said weakly, sinking back into the sofa.

 _You're no good at this. You should've just let Remus take Harry. You're only endangering them anyway; they're both in hiding because of you. You-_

"And that's totally understandable." Remus voice sounded warmer than before, and judging by the sympathetic look he had guessed the dark thoughts creeping up in Sirius' mind. "But he is happy. There's no need to hand him everything on a silver platter before he even asks for it."

"Like his breakfast?" Sirius scoffed, as his annoyance from that morning returned. "You can't tell me feeding him is considered spoiling."

Remus rolled his eyes. "He was offering to make it himself. There's nothing wrong with teaching him a little independence."

"Oh, well, if _Professor Moony_ says so," Sirius snarled. "Since when are you an expert on parenting anyway? Did you even have sex _once_?" He didn't know where those sudden mood-swings came from – or rather he did, but he didn't want to acknowledge it – but all he knew was that he was now very pissed at Remus.

To the werewolf's credit, he barely flinched. "Do what you wish," he said curtly, turning up the volume on the radio. "But if Harry liking you is more important to you than bringing him up properly, then maybe we should have left him with the Dursleys. You're his guardian now, Padfoot, not the fun uncle who pampers him. Act like it."

Sirius growled quietly, but his anger vanished as soon as it had come, leaving nothing but despair once again.

He really was hopeless at all this.

* * *

 _Sirius._

For a full minute Harry stared at the nameplate, trying to come up with possible explanations – maybe Sirius had wanted a second bedroom? Dudley had one – until he finally came to the only conclusion that made sense.

This was Sirius old home.

But how...

Could it be? The house was evil – Sirius himself had said so! – and the people who had once lived here must've been evil, too. But Sirius wasn't evil.

Maybe he'd been forced to live here? Like Harry at Privet Drive. Harry wasn't like the Dursleys at all, even though he had lived there. Maybe Sirius' parents had died as well – he had never mentioned his family now that Harry thought about it, unlike Remus – and he'd been brought here by Dumbledore or somebody else.

Yes, he decided, that must be it. There was no way Sirius was part of the horrible family that had lived here.

But what if he did?

Harry wanted to know, but the idea of asking Sirius – and admitting that he had been sneaking around – was too horrifying. Unless...

He hadn't been paying much attention to the room – riding a giant dog while fighting evil pixies didn't leave much time to take in one's surroundings – but he did remember the enormous tapestry that had adorned one wall. Sirius had tried to blast it off, but it had remained stubbornly, and finally his godfather had given up. Which meant that it still hung there.

Without bothering to pick up his chocolate frog Harry whirled around and stomped down the stairs.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Sirius finally couldn't take the silence any longer. Remus was listening to something called _Gardener's Question Time_ , and frankly, there really were lines to be drawn. "I was right. You really are way better at this than I am."

Remus, who had been on what surely must've been his sixth cup of tea since lunch, looked up from where he had been half-heartedly skimming through an old Charms book. "No need to apologize; I know this wasn't you. And I'm really not."

Sirius sighed, flicking his wand to finally shut up the annoying muggle who was telling him about how to prevent leaf mold in tomato plants. "You are...I mean, _you_ know how to raise a bloody child...all I can do is play the clown."

It had been great back when Harry had first been born. Like having a son – because James and him had been more than brothers, so any son of James was automatically his as well, whatever Lily might have to say about that – but without any of the hard bits, like responsibility or restraint.

But now James and Lily were gone, and suddenly he had to do so much more.

"I don't think I can do it," he said quietly, staring down at his hands. They were still paler than they had been, and sometimes they would tremble so badly he could barely hold his wand.

 _Useless, like the rest of you._

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, not this again." There was a plop as Remus threw down his book and walked over, fishing a handful of chocolate frogs out of his pocket. "Fight it," he said as he pushed them into Sirius hands and sat down next to him. "This isn't you, none of that brooding is. Yes, you may be a little overenthusiastic, but you will figure this out. Harry loves you very much, and he is so much happier now than he was before. You did good. Don't let them beat you."

Sirius didn't answer, but he unwrapped one of the chocolate frogs and popped it in his mouth, chewing slowly.

Remus was right, this wasn't him. He had never done much brooding – that had actually always been Remus' thing – and he certainly hadn't had any sort of self-doubts. But then again, back then he hadn't yet caused the murder of his best friends and spent over six years in the most horrible place on earth.

"You can't think about what's gone," Remus continued when Sirius didn't answer, his voice softer than before. "You can't keep blaming yourself. It wasn't your fault. It was Peter's, and Voldemort's. I don't blame you, and Harry certainly doesn't. But he needs you, _all_ of you. You have to fight the Dementors, for him. Just...just think of him as your Patronus."

Despite his gloominess, Sirius couldn't help but chuckle. "That was the sappiest thing I have ever heard, Moony. Are you _sure_ you aren't a girl?"

He stared down at the card that had fallen out of his chocolate frog and frowned. "Urgh. Celestina Warbeck. I am having the worst luck with these recently." He grabbed another one and stuffed it whole on his mouth, feeling his cheerfulness return slowly.

"Thanks, Moony. I'm...I'm sorry I'm such an arse sometimes. And I really didn't mean it. You'd be a great Dad."

As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them, as the tentative smile quickly slipped from Remus' face.

 _Right. Sore point._

Back at school, Remus had never seemed to mind the jokes about his condition much, even partaking in them occasionally. But that had been before they had been thrust back into the reality of life, out of the shelter of Hogwarts. And out there, being a werewolf meant more than a few missed classes and funny inside jokes. Sirius hadn't really noticed back then, far too busy with fighting a war and watching James and Lily start a family, but now that he was back, and got to properly look at his friend, he had to admit to himself that this new world-weariness wasn't that new at all.

So far he had tried to avoid the subject, not wanting to cause a rift between them now, when all they had was each other. But now that he had inadvertently broached it, he might as well go for it.

"Don't see why you shouldn't be," he said stubbornly. "It'd be awesome for Harry to have a little brother."

Remus only glared at him. "Let it rest, Padfoot."

Sirius winced inwardly. Usually Remus would at least muster a sarcastic comment. The fact that he didn't meant that Sirius' words must've hit harder than he had thought.

 _Because unlike you, he actually always wanted a family._

They hadn't talked about it, of course – it wasn't exactly the thing teenage boys discussed – but it had been blindingly obvious. Back then Sirius had always been certain that they could talk Remus around some day, that they would make him see his own worth. Some day, when the war was over...it had always been _some day_ , until the days had suddenly stopped.

"I think we should tell Harry."

Remus' head whipped around. "Tell him what?" he asked, even though his pale face made it clear he knew perfectly well what Sirius had meant.

"About the rabbit. I don't see why he shouldn't know."

"Because...you _know_ why!" Remus exclaimed. "He had nightmares for days because of Mad-Eye, how do you think he'd react to living with a monster?"

"You're not a monster, jeez. I mean, not to be disrespectful, but you're a rather pathetic werewolf. Moody is a million times scarier than you." Sirius was still not quite over the disappointment in first year, when after much excitement about learning that their friend was a _real werewolf_ he and James had found out that said dark creature was in fact nothing more than a shy bookworm who liked chocolate a lot.

"You're not even in the house when you transform," he continued when Remus didn't reply. "We both know it's completely harmless, and we can simply explain it to Harry."

"He'd still know he's living with a dark creature," Remus objected, avoiding Sirius eyes. "You know the stigma. I'd leave, of course, if he wanted me to, but-"

"Oh come on!" Sirius drove both hands through his hair, wondering if the years alone had made Remus even more stubborn, and how such a thing was even possible. "He's been raised by bloody muggles! He probably doesn't even know there _are_ werewolves! And do you honestly think that the son of James Potter and Lily Evans would be in any way judgmental about this? James Potter, who became an Animagus for you, and Lily Evans, who _punched a guy at her own wedding_ 'cos he said something stupid abut werewolves?"

Remus still kept quiet, his eyes now firmly fixed on the ground, his jaw clenched. Sirius knew that look, and it meant that he was close to winning. "Look, if they...if things were different, he'd already know about you, and they'd have made damn sure he was fine with it. There's no reason not to tell him; it'll only get worse the longer we postpone it. He was already up in tears about you dying last week, and I don't know what to tell him next time. It'd help so much if he could just understand."

"Nothing we could tell him would make him worry less," Remus said quietly, his eyes closed. Sirius flinched. This much defeatism was new.

 _You've been gone six years. This isn't the same man you remember._

"And what about you?" Remus continued, finally turning around to face him. "When'll you tell him about whose house this really is? Because he will figure it out at some point."

Sirius opened his mouth to respond – even though he had no idea how to – but before he could do so, their conversation was abruptly stopped by a silver form floating in through the window.

Sirius nearly dropped his remaining chocolate frog and Remus jerked so violently he practically fell off the sofa, but both had their wands out before the figure had even started talking.

" _Remus._ "

Sirius hadn't heard the voice in over six years, but he didn't need the phoenix form to tell him who it belonged to.

* * *

Harry's first instinct was to just rush into the drawing room and look for the tapestry, but on the long way down the sheer endless flights of stairs he had regained enough composure to remember the Doxies that still lurked in some of the curtains, and various other nasty inhabitants that might have escaped the cleaning act on Thursday.

 _It's probably dangerous to go in there on your own._

But he could hardly ask Sirius or Remus, could he? There was no real reason for him to be in there.

Then he remembered Remus comment, about becoming an explorer to look for Oompa-Loompas. Explorers went into dangerous places, but they came prepared. Harry could be a smart explorer.

It took him a while to find all his equipment – he actually had to break into Remus' room, which filled him with both excitement and guilt – but when he came back to the drawing room, he was sure that he could fight any Doxy. He had a handkerchief around his face, just as Sirius had shown him on Thursday – Prongs' had one, too, just to be sure – a spray can of the Anti-Fairy-Spray they had used, and a fresh chocolate frog for medical purposes (Remus seemed to always have them on him, and Remus was smart, so Harry decided to follow his example).

He threw a last cautious look downstairs to find the door of the study still firmly shut, and slowly walked inside.

The sun was already setting outside, making the room look even gloomier than he remembered. There was no fire burning in the grate, and it was a lot colder than downstairs or in Harry's room. There were shadows everywhere, and he was pretty certain he saw something move in one corner, but before he could investigate his eyes fell on his objective, and all thoughts of Oompa-Loompa-investigation fled his mind.

He quickly rushed towards it, nearly stumbling over an overturned box filled with silver goblets, until he stood directly in front of it. Or below, as it was massive, its faded and moth-eaten cloth stretching over nearly the entire wall.

Harry craned his neck, and could just make out the large, golden words at the top of the tapestry.

 _The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_

' _Toujours Pur'_

House of Black...Was that like the House of Lords? The tapestry _did_ look rather lordly. Or did it refer to the colour of the house? Black undeniably seemed to be the prevailing theme.

He decided to postpone that question and instead looked at the names that were embroidered in golden thread along the countless branches of the tree. He was too small to read the top ones properly, but judging by the dates next to them they were far too old to be Sirius anyway. In fact, the tree seemed to go hundreds of years back.

His heart lurched when he saw a Sirius, but he appeared to have died on 1952, so he was obviously not his godfather. Yet it still filled him with uneasiness, especially when he found another Sirius, even older. Maybe it was a family tradition? A lot of the names kept repeating themselves, and all of them sounded just as strange.

 _It could be a coincidence?_

Harry didn't know many wizards after all; maybe Sirius was just a very popular wizard name, like Michael in muggles. There had been three Michaels in Harry's old class, and none of them were related.

He looked at the dates further down the line. The youngest one was a Regulus, born in 1961. He seemed to have died very young, about eight years ago. Next to him was a blackened hole. Harry frowned. At first he had believed it to be a moth hole – or probably Doxy hole, since this was a magic house – but now that he looked closer, the name seemed to have been burnt out. He squeezed his eyes, but there was no telling what it had been. The year was still readable though; two years older than the one next to it. There was no second number next to it – did that mean the person was still alive?

He looked around and found a few more names with only one number, all of them older than the two at the bottom. Now that he noticed it, there were a few more burn holes where names had obviously been erased on purpose.

But why? It couldn't be because they were dead, because most of them were dead anyway. Maybe they had changed their names? But then why not write the new names next to it? Or change it by magic, which surely must be possible?

His eyes wandered back to the hole at the bottom.

Could it be?

The date fit – he actually had no idea how old Sirius or Remus were, yet it seemed about right – but did that mean anything?

He looked at the name next to it. _Regulus._ He'd read that before, hadn't he? On that...Harry's stomach sank.

On the door next to Sirius'.

* * *

" _Remus. And Sirius, if you are with him._ "

He gripped his wand more tightly, a myriad of scenarios swirling through his head. How had Dumbledore found them? If he could send a Patronus, could he also break the Fidelius? Was the Order already on their way?

A side-glance at Remus' pale face told him that he was thinking the same, and he was almost on his way to fetch Harry and apparate out of here as quickly as possible, when the phoenix continued.

" _I have not found you, in case you are wondering. Your work on the Fidelius is impressive. I send this merely as an offer of peace. I have read your letter, Remus, and I do believe you. I know that you and Sirius only have Harry's best interests at heart. But you both must now that this is not a permanent solution. Please allow me to help you. None of us wish for Harry to come to harm._ "

The phoenix dissolved, and silence descended on the room as both Sirius and Remus stared at the spot where it had been. Remus recovered first, slowly walking over to the window and peering around the curtains. "He's there," he said tonelessly.

Sirius didn't reply, still too dumbfounded by the message.

"What do we do? Do we...go out and meet him?"

Finally, he managed to move.

"You _what_!?" he repeated incredulously, so shocked he could barely feel any anger. "You sent him a _letter_!?"

Remus flinched, dropping the curtains as he turned back to face him. But his voice was calm. "I didn't send it, directly. I left it with Petunia when we got Harry. I told him why we did it, and that you were innocent. To be honest, I did not expect him to believe me."

Sirius' hands trembled. "You told him about me and Peter? Are you _insane_? What else did you tell him? Where we are? That I'm an animagus, maybe?" Now he felt anger, paired with betrayal. "I _trusted_ you, Moony!"

 _Not again. Not him, too._

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Padfoot!" Finally Remus raised his voice as well, striding over to the heavy desk in the corner. "What was I supposed to do? I betrayed their trust, I betrayed all of them. Least I could do is leave an explanation. And you heard him; he can't find us. I didn't tell him where we were going, or how you escaped. Just that it was Peter who killed them, and that we were keeping Harry safe. He deserves to know; he cares about Harry just as we do."

Sirius felt his hysteria ebb away, but he couldn't help but snort derisively. "Yeah, that's why he sent him to live with Mr and Mrs Walrus."

Remus didn't answer and instead uncorked his inkbottle, probably to take note of what Dumbledore had said.

"So what do we do?"

Sirius glanced towards the window, where he could indeed make out a tall figure looking at their house expectantly, but he turned away quickly. "Nothing. It's a trap."

Remus looked up from his writing, an eyebrow raised doubtfully. "A trap? That's hardly his style, don't you think?" He pushed the finished parchment away from him and shook his head thoughtfully.

"But you are right; we should not go out to meet him now. The Fidelius is our greatest asset, and breaking it like this would be reckless. What about a Patronus? I could arrange to meet him somewhere else, somewhere safe..."

"No." Sirius was surprised at how firm his voice sounded, but he ignored Remus' confused look. "He might be able to track it. He invented the bloody spell, who knows what he can do with it. And I don't trust him."

"You were the one who told Harry the Order were the good guys," Remus reminded him.

"Yes, because if we get captured, and if he gets away, then I'd rather he turned to Dumbledore than people like Malfoy or the ministry. But that doesn't mean I trust him."

"So we ignore it?"

Sirius nodded, the decision already made in his mind. "Yes. We're doing fine, aren't we? We've got enough money to last years, we can go out while we're careful, and Harry's happy."

He knew himself that it was only half the truth. Sure, they were okay now, but Dumbledore was right; it was hardly a long-term solution. Should they stay in this house for the rest of their lives? Of _Harry's_ life? Deprive him of of his freedom? Of Hogwarts?

He pushed the thoughts aside. For now, they were fine. That was all that mattered.


	12. The Game is Afoot

**Hey guys!**

 **Re Dumbledore's message, it's not intended as a trap; he really does want to help them. But of course he still wants to get Harry back under the safety of Privet Drive and the spell, so that is open for interpretation.**

 **B** **lue Ocean24124437: I must admit I find the apparition a bit inconsistent in the books. There are lot of occasions in the early books where going by apparition would obviously have been the more logical choice, for example at the start of OotP, when they were getting Harry to Grimmauld Place. Granted, having them go by broom is a lot more cooler, and cinematic, but ultimately unnecessary if apparition was possible. The explanation Lupin (?) gave at the time was that Harry was to young to apparate. My interpretation of this, and the rules I'll be following for this fic, is that being apparated before actually having done so on one's own is very risky, at the mind/body/whatever is not used to it yet, and might get splinched, which is why apparating children is not advised. The exception to that would obviously be Dumbledore taking Harry in the beginning of HBP, but he's Dumbledore, so rules don't really apply to him anyway. Might all be hogwash, and there might even be an explanation on Pottermore (didn't check), but this is what I will be operating on in here.**

 **alix33: It wasn't Snape (pretty sure he was a Death Eater already at the time, and James and Sirius would have hexed him on the spot if he had dared to show up anyway), but just some random ministry official. The Potters seemed to be quite rich, so they probably had some high-ranking connections who had to be invited. But nice parallel to Hermoine, hadn't even thought about that :D  
**

* * *

 **The game is afoot**

Harry spent most of the following night lying awake, wondering what it all meant.

If Sirius really _had_ lived here before, then why hadn't he told Harry? Why had he lied?

 _The people who lived here before were very mean, Prongslet, and they left a lot of evil stuff. So don't go in any rooms we haven't cleaned yet without me or Moony and don't touch anything strange. Alright?_

 _Had_ he lied? He surely must've, because how could his family be evil? Family was nice, everybody knew that. Harry's parents had been very nice people, and Remus talked about his own in very friendly terms. It was evil step-mothers – or Uncles and Aunts – who were mean.

 _But you don't even know for sure if it is him._

It was a small hope that he clung to with all his might. It was true. He hadn't actually been able to read the name. Maybe it was someone completely different. Maybe Sirius really had only lived here as a barely tolerated guest, like Harry had at the Dursleys.

 _I'm going to find out_ , he decided. _I'm going to investigate, like a proper detective._

* * *

"This one?"

"Uhm...Norfolk?"

"Almost, very good. It's Suffolk. The one above that is Norfolk, that one. You can remember them if you think about the compass; Suffolk is in the South, and Norfolk in the North, see? What about this?"

"Kent!"

"Correct! This?"

"Es-Sussex?"

"The one between them. You should know this one, actually. It's where you lived."

"...Surrey?"

"Exactly. There's Little Whinging, see?"

Harry did see, though he didn't linger long. It looked far too close to London, and he'd have liked there to be more than just a few inches between him and the Dursleys. But it gave him an idea.

"Where did you use to live, Remus?"

Remus smiled, apparently not minding the interruption at all. "Well, I was born in Wales, but we moved when I was about five. I grew up in Yorkshire. Can you find that one on the map?"

Harry frowned. Yorkshire...He had heard of it, but it had always sounded very far away. And given with how much sneer the Dursleys had mentioned it, it was probably not a very proper place. Maybe a lot of wizards lived there?

He decided to simply try his luck and pointed to the largest county in the north of England. To his surprise, Remus smiled. "Very good! Do you know what the county town is called?"

This time, Harry didn't have to think very hard. "York. And where did Sirius live?"

He barely noticed Remus' praise as he held his breath in anticipation, struggling to keep the neutral expression.

 _Don't say London. Don't say London._

But at first Remus didn't say anything, frowning instead. "I don't know," he said finally. His voice was light, but Harry couldn't decide if it was real or if there was a shadow of anxiety in it. "In only met him at Hogwarts, which is a boarding school. And most summers we used to go to your Dad's to meet up, so I never actually went to his home. This is where James lived, see? Do you know what the county is called?"

Harry hastily tried to muster up some enthusiasm as he looked at the map, but even learning about his father's childhood home didn't soften the disappointment he felt.

 _Another strategy, then._

* * *

"It was you, wasn't it?"

Remus looked up from his book to find Sirius standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and a reproachful look on his face.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more specific."

Sirius huffed and stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him. "The itching powder! You _helped_ him!"

Remus couldn't help but chuckle. "It took you two days to figure this out? And of course I gave it to him. You cheated in a game of chase with a _seven-year-old_. Frankly, you deserve it."

"But you helped him throw it." Sirius insisted, flinging down on the sofa and reaching for the bowl of Bertie Botts Beans that were left over from Harry's maths lesson this morning. "He would've missed if you hadn't intervened. Traitor."

"You don't know that," Remus repeated calmly, "He's James' son, maybe he just inherited his talent. And I still need those." Remus flicked his wand and the Beans flew back into the cupboard. He had, of course, charmed the itching powder, but he didn't want to spoil Harry's triumph by letting him find out.

"Tyrant. What's that you're reading there, anyway? Harry's essay? We did great on that one, by the way. And it was hilarious, Dromeda was in it, and that git Phineas. I mean, that practically made Ted Perseus, which is a bit of a stretch if you ask me, but-"

"It's not Harry's essay," Remus interrupted, setting aside his quill. "Speaking of which, where is he? Didn't you two want to build that pillow fort?"

"Nah, he wanted to read," Sirius said, looking mildly disgruntled as he surreptitiously searched the room for more food. "You're turning him into a right little swot. If James knew..." He drifted off, his frown deepening when his hungry gaze found nothing. "I wish we could take him out more. Do _anything._ This house is bloody depressing."

Remus hesitated. Yesterday, their discussion had been brought to an abrupt end by Dumbledore's Patronus, but as much as he disliked their first topic, his last point still stood.

"You should really tell him," he said carefully, "About whose house this is. He's going to find out eventually, and it would be better if it came from you." He remembered Harry's question from that morning, and the uncomfortable half-truth he had been forced to tell him.

Sirius' face darkened. "Why?" he snapped, clearly growing annoyed. "I'll figure out a way to remove that blasted tapestry, and the horrid bitch too while I'm at it, and there's no need for him to find out. It'd only confuse him."

"How is knowing about your parents worse than telling him I'm a werewolf?" Remus asked exasperatedly.

"Because you've got an illness that's in no way your fault. My parents were huge dicks by choice – there's a world of difference!" Sirius was on his feet now, and yelling so loudly that Remus cast a worried glance towards the ceiling, wondering if Harry had heard him.

Sirius seemed to have the same thought, for he quickly calmed down again, slumping back into the sofa. "I'm sorry," he muttered miserably.

Remus didn't answer, watching his friend in contemplation.

 _It's getting worse._

He glanced back towards the book he'd been reading. "I think we need to figure out something to do about this."

"My parents being dicks?" Sirius asked humourlessly. "I'd suggest burning this shack down, but I'm afraid that'd be a bit inconvenient right now. Though it might still be worth it..."

"No, _you_ ," Remus said patiently. "And your...your head." He didn't know how to phrase it properly, as Sirius had always been extremely guarded when it came to his emotions. Getting him to talk about his mental problems – or even to admit that he had any – would not be easy.

As expected, Sirius' expression immediately closed. "My head's fine," he snapped.

 _Well, you started this, you might as well go through with it._

"No, it's not," Remus said quietly. "Padfoot, you spent six years in there. Of course that leaves traces; it's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not _ashamed_ ," Sirius hissed. "I just don't want to talk about it, alright? It's none of your business."

Remus sighed. "Maybe none of mine, no," he continued carefully. And it was true. He didn't mind being the victim of Sirius' violent mood swings; he could handle having insults flung at him. But it wasn't himself that he was worried about. "But it does concern Harry."

Sirius' head whipped around, and Remus flinched at the hateful glare now directed at him. "Don't bring him into this. You know I'd never..."

"Not now, no," Remus said, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. "But it's not getting any better. And _I_ know it's not you speaking when you lash out at me, but Harry wouldn't understand. He's only just recovering from how the Dursleys treated him. How do you think he'd react if his godfather yelled at him over nothing?"

At his last words, all the fight left Sirius eyes, and his shoulder slumped defeated. "I-" he croaked, unable to finish his sentence.

"It's not your fault," Remus quickly said, not wanting Sirius to lapse into one of his bouts of self-hatred once more. "What Dementors do to a person...nobody can blame you. But you need to get help."

Sirius chuckled darkly. "And how do you suggest I do that? Shrinks are a bit hard to come by if you're a convicted murderer."

"Ideally I'd send you to St Mungo's," Remus nodded, relieved that Sirius seemed to at least acknowledge the problem. "Or talk to a few experts, but that's obviously not an option right now."

He had actually contemplated asking Dumbledore for help, but after Sirius' reaction to the Patronus he had decided to respect his friend's wishes and not contact the headmaster. At least he now knew that his letter had found his recipient, and that Dumbledore had actually believed him, which was more than he had hoped for.

"I've been going through some books, looking for hints about what prolonged exposure does," he said instead, indicating the notes on the desk. "But it's hard to find a precedent. Usually, if someone spent as long in their presence as you did..."

"They're either mad or dead," Sirius finished. "I know." He looked at the book that was still lying on the table. "Is that from the library? You do know most of those are banned by the ministry?"

Remus nodded. "This one certainly should be," he said, grimacing at the grey leather. "It details experiments to create living inferi by Dementor exposure. And it's not just theory; they tested it on muggles. Makes you want to burn it on the spot." Usually he would never even have considered burning a book, no matter how vile, but an afternoon in the Ancient and Most Deprived Library of Black had weakened his principles somewhat.

"Be my guest; fire's dying anyway," Sirius said, indication the embers in the fireplace. "Found anything useful in it?"

"Well, it does offer the most detailed description of long-time effects" Remus still shuddered when he remembered the cool detachment with which the author had described the "experiments". "But there's nothing in it about recovery, obviously."

"And you wonder why I don't want Harry to know that I'm related to those freaks," Sirius muttered. "So that's it? I'm gonna be an Inferius?"

"No you're not," Remus hissed quickly. "And your case is completely different, anyway. I don't think there ever w _as_ a documented case of an Animagus in Azkaban. The only comparison I could come up with is the short term prisoners, people who've only been there a few months. I know the ministry conducted a study on that a few years back; it was started by a human rights appeal. The proposal got shot down, sadly, but the report should still be accessible. I'm just not sure how to get it. It was published in a few journals, but I haven't been getting any since...well, I haven't got it."

 _Since my Dad stopped paying for my stuff,_ would be more honest, but he didn't want to delve into his monetary problems right now.

"We could break into the ministry to look for it," Sirius suggested, a sly grin on his face that made Remus wonder just how serious he was being. "Padfoot could take a dump on Crouch's desk while we're at it. I'm sure it'd be highly therapeutic."

"We're not going to do that," Remus interrupted quickly. "I'll keep looking upstairs; maybe there're a few older books about it. I know they did a lot of research back when they first installed Azkaban. Maybe I'll find something."

He seriously doubted it – he had read about the history of Azkaban, and most of the studies on Dementors back then had been concerned with their effectiveness in keeping wizards locked up, not in curing the hazards they wrought – but he didn't want to leave Sirius in low spirits.

To his relief, his friend simply snorted. "And until then, you just shove chocolate in my face whenever I get grumpy?"

Remus chuckled. "That's the plan."

* * *

"Is that a wizard paper?"

Remus looked up from his reading. "It is," he said, sounding rather surprised. Until now, Harry had taken no interest in reading the paper, after all. "The _Daily Prophet_. I buy it occasionally to see what's going on in the wizarding world."

He looked worried, probably because Harry had reacted very queasily when it came to anybody leaving the safety of their house, especially to go into the wizarding world. But today, Harry was almost grateful that Remus had done so.

"Can I read it? It looks cool!"

That wasn't even a lie. The moving pictures, even though they were black and white, and the so obviously magic headlines made the Daily Prophet look a thousand times more interesting than any paper he had seen before. But today, he hadn't asked to amuse himself, but because he was on a mission.

After further consideration, he had come to the conclusion that _House of Black_ probably meant that the family's name was Black. It had been confirmed when he had snuck back into the top most landing on Monday afternoon to look at the nameplate again.

 _Regulus Arcturus Black_

Another frightening discovery was that the chocolate frog he had dropped in Sirius room had disappeared. First, he had panicked, thinking that Sirius or Remus must've found it and know that he had been in there, but when neither confronted him about it he concluded that it had probably been the Oompa-Loompa. But as exciting as that mystery was, he decided that finding out the truth about the house was more important for now.

 _Regulus Arcturus Black_

Black.

He had realized, to his surprise, that he didn't even know Sirius' last name. It probably wasn't Padfoot – after all, he did know Remus' full name, and his last name was Lupin and not Moony – meaning that it was technically _possible_ he was called Black. But how could Harry find out?

He couldn't just ask Sirius or Remus, as that would have been too suspicious, especially as he had already asked after Sirius' home. He had tried to gather any information from the photo albums, but there were barely ever any names in there. There was one picture of Sirius in a school Quidditch match – he'd substituted for an injured Beater, as he'd told Harry – but unfortunately his face had been turned towards the camera, so that the name on the back of his uniform wasn't visible.

After three days of trying, Harry had been at a loss. That was, until he came down to breakfast on Thursday morning to find Remus reading a wizard paper. A wizard paper, on which he clearly remembered seeing Sirius' face the first week he'd been here. Back then he hadn't gotten a proper look, as Remus had quickly folded it and put it away, but he was certain that if Sirius had been front page news back then, he would probably still get mentioned occasionally. With his last name.

He looked expectantly at Remus, hoping his expression was suitably innocent. Remus hesitated, visibly torn, but finally relented. "Of course," he smiled, "I'm reading this part, but you can have the rest. Actually-" He paused, and gave Harry a contemplating look. "Why don't you read this instead of lessons today? They read muggle papers in muggle studies, and I suppose it would be good for you to learn a little bit about the wizarding world. How about you write a little essay about a few differences to the muggle community?"

Harry beamed and nodded hastily, not even caring that he had just gained a lot of homework. After all, this would give him an excellent excuse to search the paper properly.

His heart hammering with sudden expectation, he began his study.

The first page he saw seemed to describe a Quidditch match. There was a large picture of an orange-clad man apparently falling off his broomstick. Normally Harry would've lingered, but he was on a mission, so he went on. The next part seemed to be about money. Harry almost yelped when he saw the strange creature that was talking to the camera, until he remembered what Sirius had said about goblins running the wizard bank. He eyed the goblin curiously.

He looked funny. He was probably about Harry's size, but he had a little beard, and his skin was very wrinkly. He had small black eyes that made him look rather shrewd. It seemed to be standing on a pedestal and give some sort of speech.

Harry looked down at the headline, and instantly felt his blood run cold.

 _Gringotts confirms: Black has been to his vault_

Black...He threw a short glance at Remus, who seemed completely caught up in his own reading, and then quickly started skimming the article. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for.

" _...the escaped murderer Sirius Black, sentenced for..._ "

There wasn't a picture of his godfather next to it, but Harry didn't need one. The case was solved. Grimmauld Place number twelve, the "house of horrors", as Sirius himself had christened it, was his godfather's birthplace.

* * *

 **Next chapter will be on Saturday, as usual.**

 **For those who are interested, I also posted a new story, _Drag Me Over The Rainbow_ , which is also AU and about Harry being rescued by Sirius and Remus, though more RemusXTonks centred and set in GoF. It's been sitting on my PC for almost a year, and is actually some sort of prototype of this story. For a while I thought I'd turn it into a sequel to _The Letter_ , but this is now going in a different direction so I thought I might as well post both. Not to fear though, Letter will definitely stay the priority :)**

 **As always, reviews are very welcome :)**


	13. The Hunt for the Oompa-Loompa

**CaseLC: Thanks! I wasn't quite sure about making up so much extra stuff, glad it didn't sound too pretentious/outlandish. It'll take Harry some time to figure out Kracher, but he's definitely getting closer. *points at chapter title***

 **alix33: Truee point about the chocolate, sadly. How I wish magic was real...**

 **Penelope Valentine: Thanks! :)**

* * *

 **The Hunt for the Oompa-Loompa**

 _Thursday, 12_ _th_ _of May_

 _Wizards don't have cars, because they use other ways to travel, like broomsticks. This means that they don't need traffic lights..._

Harry stopped writing, listlessly looking at the ink-splotched, far too short essay he had produced so far. After the shock from finding out Sirius' last name he had quickly retreated into his own room, not wanting to run into his godfather before he had figured out how to deal with it, and for lack of anything better to do he had started on the homework that Remus had set him.

But it was almost impossible to concentrate on whatever differences there were between the muggle and the wizard world when there were so many other questions swirling in his mind.

Sirius had grown up in this house, and the evil people that had lived here before had been his family.

But could they really be evil? Sirius wasn't evil.

But he seemed to despise them, if he hadn't even told Harry about it.

Or maybe he hadn't because he didn't want to talk about it? Maybe it made him sad?

Because if this is where his family had lived, where were they now?

He remembered the names on the tapestry, and the dates that had been on there. _Dead_. For a moment he felt sympathy for Sirius for having lost is parents as well, and his brother.

But there had been other people, people who seemed to be still alive. Did they live elsewhere? They had been on different branches; maybe they had their own houses. Uncle Vernon and Marge didn't live in the same place either.

 _Or maybe they're still here._

A chill ran down his spine when he remembered the Oompa-Loompa. Could the steps have come from one of the names on the tapestry?

Had he led Harry to Sirius' room on purpose? It was very likely, he now realized. The Oompa-Loompa had wanted him to find out the truth about Sirius. But why? And why hadn't he just come and told him? Maybe he was shy...

 _He took the chocolate frog._

Whoever the Oompa-Loompa was, he liked chocolate.

 _I could give him more_ , Harry mused, _to thank him for letting me know. And maybe he'll show himself if I feed him enough..._

Be an explorer.

Harry felt a grin flicker over his face as he put down the quill. Searching for the mysterious Oompa-Loompa was a lot nicer than wondering about Sirius.

* * *

"Reading a book at breakfast? I thought this was strictly newspaper realm?" Remus looked up to see his friend stroll into the kitchen, wearing a dressing gown that did not look like it had originally been designed for a male. It had a hole in one chest where a family crest had apparently been violently ripped out. The Animagus was running out of clothes after Remus had discovered that he did not actually know any cleaning spells and refused to do his laundry until he learned.

"I gave my Prophet to Harry, and figured I might as well get started on those pre-Azkaban reports."

Immediately, the grin dropped from Sirius' face. "Oh," he said, unenthusiastically grabbing a few slices of toast. "So where's Harry?"

"In his room, working. Listen, I think I found something that might help. There's a piece here about how people defended themselves from Dementors before the Patronus came about, and apparently a form of Occlumency was used. It might be worth looking into."

As expected, Sirius was not thrilled. "Occlumency? Isn't that for slimy little creeps like Snivellus?"

Remus – who knew the basics of Occlumency, but had never pursued it further – sighed. "No it's not. It's part of the Auror training, actually. Not _everything_ Death Eaters do is automatically evil. Look, I'm not saying you become a Master in it" – he seriously doubted this was possible, given Sirius track record with patience – "But the whole principle of mental defence might be applicable. The other solution would be to have a Patronus around you at all times, and that's hardly practical, is it?"

Sirius frowned, and for a moment Remus honestly expected him to conjure his Patronus just to prove him wrong, but then his friend just slumped back in his chair with a sigh.

"Alright. Show me that mental crap."

* * *

 _Friday, 13_ _th_ _of May_

The chocolate chip cookie that Harry had placed in front of Sirius' childhood door the night before was gone. There were crumps left – actually, they rather looked like a bite that had been half-eaten and then spit out again. Harry crouched down next to it, a little bit put off but still fascinated.

 _Maybe he only likes chocolate? It would make sense, if he's really an Oompa-Loompa._

But there were chocolate bits in the mix as well, so evidently the eater had not bothered to pick them out. Harry decided to get something completely different tomorrow, to test the chocolate hypothesis.

Before he left, he cast a short glance downstairs – it should be safe; Sirius was in the study fixing an old record player and Remus was making lunch – and then called out, as softly as possible: "Mr Oompa-Loompa? Are you there?"

There was no answer, even though he was almost certain there had been some shuffling when he had first come up here. But in truth he hadn't expected the Oompa-Loompa to show itself; it really was very shy.

"I'm glad you liked the cookie. I'll bring you something else tonight. Do you like Bertie Botts Beans? Remus gave me some for my geography lesson. They taste a bit funny sometimes but mostly they're nice."

He waited a few more moments but when no-one answered he reluctantly got to his feet.

"We'll find him yet," he promised Prongs, his trusted comrade.

* * *

"No, that wasn't it. You're too aggressive. This isn't a duel; attack is not the way forward. You have to stay calm; don't give your opponent an opening to exploit. Let's do this again."

Sirius groaned. "Oh, come on. We've been at this for hours. It's the weekend!"

"It's been an hour and forty-five minutes, and strictly speaking it's not the weekend yet. Look Padfoot, I know this is boring as hell, but you need to grasp the basics if this is to go anywhere."

"If even you call it boring, how do you think mere mortals can stomach it?" Sirius grumbled, rubbing his forehead. "I've changed my mind; I'm just gonna walk around with a Patronus for the rest of my life."

"No you're not. This is ridiculous; how did you guys ever manage to become Animagi? You must've done the theory at some point."

"That I actually cared about. This...I dunno, it's all so vague. I mean, I feel fine most of the time. And it's only been a few weeks, I'm sure this'll go away by itself. Let's just drop it for tonight, alright? I've still got to fix this bloody thing." He pointed towards the record player that lay abandoned on the coffee table.

Remus was not convinced at all, but he knew he had lost, at least for tonight. And maybe Sirius was right. He'd grown up in his own version of Azkaban, after all, and still come out of it mostly alright.

"Why don't you just buy a new one?" he asked instead, scrutinizing the battered old machine. It was muggle, although it had long stopped working without the help of magic. If Remus remembered correctly, Sirius had stolen it from muggle studies in their fourth year. "Usually you're the one who tells me not to bother fixing anything."

"Because what you're referring to are clothes that looked horrendous even when they were new, whereas this is an historic artefact. This-" Sirius caressed the tarnished metal tenderly, a gesture that Remus had only ever seen him apply to his motorbike, "is the player that first opened my ears to music. _Real music._ "  
Remus followed his eyes and discovered a box of old muggle records. He knew them all by heart, as James and Sirius had been just as enthusiastic in their choice of records as they had been limited. He groaned inwardly at the prospect of spending yet another evening with the ever-same album playing on a loop.

"I can't believe how those crooks treated it," Sirius continued, real hurt and anger blazing in his voice, "Storing it with all the other crap...no wonder it won't play anymore!"

 _Excellent,_ Remus thought dryly, _he doesn't give a damn about his mental state, but woe betide any goblin who dares mistreat his ancient pile of muggle rubble. Padfoot really is back._

* * *

 _Saturday, 14_ _th_ _of May_

Harry was confused.

His offer appeared to have been accepted, but only partially. There were several beans left over, but when he looked at them more closely he realized that they had not simply been left over, but spit out after eating. Apparently the Oompa-Loompa only liked certain tastes.

And they were very strange.

Analyzing them took time – Harry actually had to go and beg Sirius for sweets, something he had never done before, in order to gather sufficient sampling material – but after an hour or so of careful testing and colour comparison he came to the conclusion that the Oompa-Loompa had very strange tastes indeed.

 _List of Oompa-Loompa tastes_

 _Accepted:_

 _-Black Pepper (maybe)_

 _-Pumpkin_

 _-Overcooked cabbage (Sirius said so)_

 _-Coffee_

 _-A green one_

 _Rejected:_

 _-Lemon_

 _-Honey_

 _-Baked Bean_

 _-Peppermint_

Harry wasn't completely sure about the beans he had dropped off the night before, as it was generally hard to tell what they were before eating them. But after a rather traumatizing experience with a vomit flavoured one on his first try, Sirius, who was surprisingly knowledgeable when it came to all sorts of sweets, had started to teach him how to tell them apart.

And even if he was wrong on some accounts, it still looked like the Oompa-Loompa had made all the opposite choices that Harry would've made.

He again looked at the list of favourable tastes. They would be hard to realize, he decided. There was probably pepper somewhere, but he didn't know how to transport it properly. They didn't have any pumpkins, as it was May, and after a one time trial that had ended with a general boycott by Sirius, Remus had stopped cooking cabbage.

 _Coffee, maybe?_

Remus only drank tea, but he had seen Sirius drink coffee on some mornings. It would be hard to make, of course, and it would probably be cold before the Oompa-Loompa found it, but it was worth a try.

* * *

 _Sunday, 15_ _th_ _of May_

"How's your coffee?"

Sirius glared up at him. "Lovely, thank you," he said after a short pause with a falsely sweet smile on his face that could not quite hide the disgusted shudder.

Remus allowed himself a small smile – it was petty, but Earl Grey was no joking matter, and in his nightmares he could still taste the milky menace from the last full moon – before returning to his paper.

His conscience was clean; he had honestly done his best to teach Harry when they boy had come to him wanting to make his godfather a cup of coffee. But the coffee machine that Sirius had dug up was partly dysfunctional and had been a pain in the arse to use even in its best days. No wonder a seven-year-old couldn't quite manage it.

"Do you think he's alright?" Sirius asked after a few minutes if silence. "He's been behaving a little odd these past few days. Spends an awful lot of time in his room. Reckon he might have nightmares again?"

"I don't think so," Remus answered absentmindedly, frowning at the article. "He usually comes to you with those, doesn't he? But we may have a different problem; read this."

He handed the paper to Sirius, who took it and frowned. " _Black spotted in London_? But I haven't even..." He looked up sharply. "Do you think...Dumbledore?"

Remus scratched his head. "Dunno...might just be chance. There have been a lot of false alarms; last week some guy claimed you were strolling around on the Orkneys, remember?"

Sirius looked unconvinced, and if he was honest with himself, so was Remus. It was possible, of course, but it was just a little too close to the Patronus a few nights ago to be a coincidence.

"Bastard," Sirius hissed under his breath. "He _knows_ I'm innocent, he said so himself! _Please allow me to help you_ my arse."

"Maybe he took our silence as a sign that he was wrong. Maybe he thinks we're Death Eaters after all," Remus suggested half-heartedly, wondering if it hadn't been a mistake to listen to Sirius in this.

It had been on his mind for days now. Dumbledore had offered them peace, and they had ignored him. He believed them, wanted to help them... but if he wanted to help them, why alert the ministry? Why not try again?

"It doesn't matter," he said quickly, before Sirius could launch into another tirade. "We're safe here. They have no way in here; and it's not like they haven't been trying before. I'll just stop going to Diagon Alley and apparate to a grocery store further away from here."

"Hmpf," Sirius grumbled, and returned to his record player, which last night had at least managed to give off two or three notes before falling silent once more. "Just make sure you don't tell Harry. Don't want him to worry even further."

* * *

"Mr Oompa-Loompa? I brought you coffee." Harry hesitated in front of the open door, uncertainly holding on to the steaming mug. He was rather proud of himself for having made a second cup without Remus noticing after the one he had made for Sirius. He had sloshed a bit on the stairs, but he hoped that Sirius and Remus wouldn't notice.

However, just as before there was no answer.

"I didn't know if you liked milk in it," Harry continued quietly, craning his neck to search the empty room. "Or sugar. Sirius doesn't, so I left it out. But if you want, I can put it in next time."

Still no answer, so Harry reluctantly placed the mug on the floor in front of Sirius' old room, as he had done before. After a second of hesitation, he added quietly, "Thank you for showing me Sirius' room. I'm glad I know the truth."

While he had made the coffee for Sirius, Harry had come to the conclusion that it really didn't matter that his godfather's family was so strange, or that he hadn't told Harry about them. He was still Sirius, and Sirius was nice and funny and he loved Harry.

In fact, the most probably solution was that Sirius had simply been wrong when he had told Harry about the people living here before being evil. Or maybe there had been living someone here inbetween the Black family moving out and Sirius and Remus moving back in – yes, that made a lot of sense! No wonder Sirius was bitter about them.

"We're going to build a pillow fort," he told the empty room, "me and Sirius and Remus. If you want, you can come, too. It'll be a lot of fun!"

Again, no one answered, but Harry hadn't really expected him too.

 _Tomorrow, then._

* * *

 _Monday, 16_ _th_ _of May_

Monday was the most exciting day yet in Harry's hunt for the Oompa-Loompa. Because it was a school day he hadn't gotten to check if his offer had been accepted until after lunch.

As he was slowly sneaking up the stairs – he only had a few minutes during which he was officially brushing his teeth, because Sirius had promised to show him his newly repaired record player – holding the peach he had nicked from the kitchen close to his chest, he suddenly froze.

He was on the third landing, and there was definitely a _voice_ coming from the behind one of the sealed doors.

His heart hammering in his chest, Harry slowly started moving towards it, thankful for the faded old carpet that muffled his steps. Like all doors in this house this one was made from thick wood, and he struggled to make out any words.

"...likes coffee...brat..."

It seemed to be a male voice, though rather croaky.

Could it be the Oompa-Loompa? But who was he talking to?

Harry stared at the tarnished silver door knob, weighing his options. Should he knock? Or call out?

But the Oompa-Loompa was shy; he would probably hide.

Curiosity won over politeness, and after a last flicker of hesitation, Harry quickly turned the door knob and pushed open the door.

It opened without any problem – maybe the Oompa-Loompa was a wizard who could reverse the magical locking that Sirius and Remus had done? – and for a split second he saw a figure standing in the middle of the room, staring at Harry with enormous wide eyes.

It was smaller than Harry, maybe three foot tall, and had pale, ancient looking skin, bat-like ears and a snout.

Before he had quite recovered from the surprising sight there was a soft pop, and the figure vanished into thin air.

Harry stared at them empty spot where it had been, completely shocked. It hadn't looked like Harry had imagined Oompa-Loompas at all. And as far as he knew, Oompa-Loompas didn't have the power to just vanish like that, either.

 _But maybe the muggle who wrote the book just didn't know about them properly. Most muggle books about wizards are wrong, after all._

He didn't get the opportunity to think on that further as there was a call from downstairs. "Harry? You alright up there? Didn't get attacked by the toothbrush-fairy, did you?"

Harry jumped. "I'm coming Sirius!" he yelled back, panic flushing through him as he hoped that his godfather didn't come up to look for him himself.

But just before he closed the door behind him again, he spotted something in the middle of the room, right next to where the Oompa-Loompa had been. An empty mug, the exact same one that he had stolen the day before.

As he raced down the stairs, nearly stumbling in his haste, Harry felt a grin spread over his face. It appeared he had finally found out what the Oompa-Loompa – or whatever he was – liked.

And now that he had, it was only a matter of time until he could lure him out into the open.

* * *

 **I apologize for the lack of action, but with all of them locked in there's not really much that can happen (yet). There'll be a few more chapters of Harry's investigation before things pick up again; I hope you're not bored of it yet ;)**


	14. The servant's lament

**Thanks for all those great reviews! :)**

 **DarkNutDestroyer: Thanks! :) I think you're right about Sirius and Remus, especially with Remus I was still sort of figuring out his character while I was writing it, so he is a bit all over the place. (Sirius, too, probably, but with him I at least have the Azkaban excuse...) I'm hoping to improve on that now that I've decided where they are both heading, character-wise.**

 **Rouvas7x7: Sorry to disappoint, but this is not a Wolfstar fic. I don't have anything against that pairing, but personally I'm quite a big fan of RemusXTonks, so that's where this will eventually go. However, since this is set quite early it will still be a while until that emerges, so if you dislike that pairing don't worry, it won't come up for a bit.**

 **Eniluap12: I definitely plan to continue this for quite a while - so far I've got a rough outline for the story until at least PoA - although I won't do so continually and in one story. There will be time leaps one one-shots for inbetween. But generally, this should go on until DH. (Fingers crossed)**

* * *

 **The servant's lament**

„Sirius? Don't you think this is going a bit too far?"

Remus stopped in his tracks as he overlooked the musical debauchery in front of him. In the three days that it was working, the record player already had thoroughly won Harry over.

Remus doubted that the boy cared much about what sort of music was being played – as long as it was loud and fun; he had not taken well to Remus' Genesis album – but rather the fact that Sirius was acting so enthusiastic about it, singing and dancing and urging Harry to do the same.

And Remus really didn't have anything against it. The muggle repellent spells saved them from angry neighbours, and after seven years of a shared dormitory Remus was pretty good at silencing spells. And while he would never admit this to Sirius, he _had_ sort of missed the loud, unapologetic Rock and Punk that Sirius and James had played during their time at Hogwarts. Wonderful as the Dire Straits might be, after six years of solitude they had gotten a bit depressing.

But they were lines to be drawn. And coming into the study and finding a little boy cheerfully, and very out of tune, bawling " _I am an antichrist_ " was one of them.

"The Sex Pistols? Padfoot, he's _seven_!" Remus struggled to make himself heard over the cacophony that was the trio of Johnny Rotten, an escaped convict and the boy who lived.

"Exactly!" Sirius grinned as he showed a – very rusty – dance move to Harry, who enthusiastically copied him, "he doesn't know what any of these words mean anyway. You like anarchy, Harry?"

"Yes! Annacky!"

"Oh for the loved of..." Remus started to mutter, walking over to the record player and putting a very sudden stop to the record. Two identical looks of scandalized protest were shot his way, but Remus quickly cut them off. "I'm afraid it's time for bed, Harry, it's past eight, and it's not the weekend yet."

"Just one more song! Sirius was going to teach me how to air-guitar!"

Remus shot an irritated glance towards Sirius, who even had the audacity to grin at him, but forced himself to keep a level face for Harry. "I'm sure he can teach you tomorrow. Now, off to brush your teeth, and if you're good Sirius can read you a chapter before bed, what do you say?"

Harry frowned. "Okay," he said quietly, picking up his stuffed stag from its place on the back of the sofa where it had been allowed to watch. "But can you read to me? You do the voices better."

Struggling to hide a smile, or even a smug look towards Sirius – he _was_ rather annoyed at him – Remus nodded. "Of course, if you want me to. I'll be up in a bit, alright?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically, and quickly bound over to Sirius to hug him. "Night, Sirius! We can listen to more music tomorrow, can't we?"

"Most certainly, Prongslet," Sirius grinned, picking Harry up and twirling him around before setting him back on the ground. "And maybe we can even get Moony to sing with us. That'd be fun, wouldn't it?"

"Yes!" Harry grinned brightly and ran from the room, bobbing his head in what was presumably an imitation of Sirius' head-banging.

As soon as he was out of sight, Remus turned to his friend. "Care to explain?" he prompted. "This is hardly music for his age, Padfoot."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Come on, they're harmless. I'm not teaching him to set cars on fire or anything."

"Sooner or later he's going to ask what the words mean. Can't you at least stick to the Who?"

Despite them being Sirius favourite band – up until their seventh year he had repeatedly tried to convince the Marauders to start a cover band, despite the fact that none of them even knew how to hold a guitar the right way up – he did not look too pleased.

"You're very boring, Moony."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Well, you wanted to be the fun parent, so I have to be." Not wanting to expand the argument further, he added, "I am glad to see he's cheerful again. You were worried about him, weren't you?"

Sirius nodded. "Seems to have sorted itself out," he said with a slight frown, rubbing the back of his head. "Maybe I was just imagining it." He slumped onto the sofa and lazily summoned the box with his records that Remus had brought from Gringotts. "By the way, may I just say how pathetic it is to see that your record collection hasn't changed at all while I was gone? All of your albums are from at least eight years ago!"

Remus rolled his eyes again.

"Yeah, well, so are yours," he muttered, quickly heading upstairs before the pillow that Sirius had flung at his head could hit him.

* * *

" _Talking 'bout my geeeneration!"_ Harry hummed, bobbing his head to the tune playing inside his mind. It was very catchy. He stopped, frowning at the parchment in front of him. It really had looked better in his imagination, but there was nothing to be done about it.

He had spent the last hour or so sketching the Oompa-Loompa from memory, although it had been hard to remember what he had looked like exactly from only the short glimpse he had gotten.

After the success with the coffee, he had returned with full vigour to his task of finding the strange creature. His first step had been to investigate the room that he had seen it in.

It was one of the smaller ones, but covered in just as much dust and cobwebs as the rest of them. At first he had thought it was only by chance that the Oompa-Loompa had been there, because it really didn't look like a place that anybody would live in. But on further inspection he had discovered a tall cupboard. Its top shelves were filled with the same assortment of expensive but ancient looking silverware that he had seen in all the other rooms, but on the lower half it had doors, about three feet high. One of them had stood open, and so, curious, Harry had peaked inside.

His first impression had been of a nest. A heap of dirty rags filled the small space, with the distinct dent of someone sleeping in it. What was even stranger were the various items strewn about it. There was a framed picture of a very scary looking woman – Harry actually recognized her as a smaller version of the mean portrait in the hallway, though this appeared to be a photograph and was thankfully silent – a few silver objects that to him didn't look different from the other ones strewn about the house, and several other things that didn't seem very remarkable to him.

 _This must be where he lives_ , Harry realized, excitement rushing through him, _I found his home!_

Then, another realization hit him.

 _He lives in a cupboard. Like me._

He frowned. Why did the Oompa-Loompa live in a cupboard? There seemed to be enough spare rooms.

But then, there had been a spare room in the Dursleys home, and Harry had still been put in the cupboard.

Was someone forcing him to live in there? But who?

The thought saddened him, so he quickly searched for other options. Maybe the Oompa-Loompa liked living in a cupboard?

His heart beat faster. What if it was a vampire? But then he realized that Dudley hadn't even known about magic, so his tales about vampires were probably just inventions to scare Harry.

 _He was very small. Maybe he feels safer in a small room._

Harry could sympathize with that; the tall, dark hallways in this house had been intimidating to him, too at first.

He surveyed the assembled items. It reminded him of what he knew about magpies, who collected shiny things to decorate their nests with. Were Oompa-Loompas like magpies?

Another, newer looking item caught his eye. Carefully, he reached around the photograph to pick it up. It was a chocolate frog card. He didn't recognize the person in it – he looked rather mean, if Harry was honest – but the name sounded familiar.

 _Phineas Nigellus_

Phineas…There had been a lot of Phineas' on the tapestry. The last name was wrong, but maybe he was a cousin? Harry and Dudley didn't have the same name, either.

He turned the card around to read it.

 _Phineas Nigellus (1847 – 1925)_

 _A renowned expert in curse-breaking and author of several books._

 _He began a career in politics as temporary member of the Wizengamot where he used his substantial wealth to campaign for the abolition of the "human" status of muggles. He later went to Hogwarts where he taught Arithmancy for several years before becoming headmaster in 1912._

 _Generally known as the least popular headmaster in the school's history._

Harry frowned. Mr Nigellus didn't sound like a very nice person, if he was honest. And there was no mention in there about whether he might be related to the Black family.

So why would the Oompa-Loompa want to keep this card? He searched around the nest, but there were no further chocolate frog cards. So he had kept this one specifically…

At least it now made sense to Harry why the Oompa-Loompa had taken the chocolate frog and not the cookie – it hadn't been the chocolate he was after but the card.

And he kept a portrait of the screaming woman, too. Maybe he just liked evil people…did that mean he was evil, too? Harry didn't want to think so. He was sure there was a reason for it, somehow.

After that discovery Harry had started to leave his daily offering of coffee in front of the Oompa-Loompa's nest. Feeling guilty for having invaded the creature's privacy he had left a letter of apology with the first mug, and asked a few questions about the Oompa-Loompa in the hope that the shy inhabitant might relent to written communication, but while the letter had been gone when Harry had retrieved the empty mug the next day, there was no reply.

Refusing to let this discourage him Harry had decided on other methods to find out more about the Oompa-Loompa. He had left two chocolate frogs with the coffee on Tuesday, but while both had evidently been opened, both chocolate and cards – Circe and Adalbert Waffling – were still there the next day.

He had taken to lurking inside the room, or the corridor next to it, in the hope of catching the Oompa-Loompa, but so far without luck. Once he heard the voice again, but he had stumbled on the stairs in his haste to get there, and the resulting noise must've scared the creature off, because the room was empty when he got there.

"Harry?" He jumped at the knock behind him, and hastily pushed his drawing under the pile of blank parchment. Turning around he found Sirius smiling at him, and hoped his face didn't look too guilty.

But except for an amused smirk at Harry's haste, Sirius didn't react at all. "Remus and I were going to try and clear out the drawing room today, and I was wondering if you wanted to fight some more Doxies."

Harry's eyes grew big, the Oompa-Loompa immediately forgotten. "Cool! Do…Do I get to ride on Padfoot again?"

Sirius grinned. "Of course! That's the only proper way to fight Doxies; everyone knows that."

..-

"Good Godric…" Remus muttered when Sirius flicked his wand to start the record he'd brought up. "Are you serious?"

Sirius merely grinned. "Always. Never seen Apocalypse Now? This is how you're supposed to go into battle!"

"I… _we're_ fighting the Doxies; they're the ones who can fly. Really it should be them who play- " But Sirius had already transformed into a dog, and Harry, who did not seem to mind Wagner in any way, enthusiastically scrambled onto his back.

As he prepared himself for another long afternoon of trying to save Harry from being bitten or crashing into something while Padfoot raced around the room madly, Remus wondered, not for the first time, why he had even bothered to bring the record player with him from Gringotts.

 _Complaining about loud music...you really are getting old, aren't you?_ He grimaced at that thought, and decided to be a little bit more tolerant.

In the end, it "only" took them three hours to exterminate the last of the Doxies. After that, though, came the more unpleasant part of cleaning out all of the ancient family heirlooms that still filled the shelves and cupboards.

They waited till after Harry was in bed, as neither of them wanted to risk him getting cursed by whatever dark magic might reside in them. And, Remus suspected, Sirius didn't want Harry asking any questions that might betray his own history with the house.

"What about these? If we clean them, they're still usable."

Sirius snorted, staring at the set of wine glasses that Remus levitated from the top of the liquor cabinet. For Black standards, they were positively plain, lacking even the standard family crest that seemed to be attached to every last moth hole in this house. Apparently that did not win them Sirius' favour, though.

"Urgh, throw them out. They were from Aunt Lucretia; I can practically smell her blasted perfume when I see them."

Remus didn't know who Aunt Lucretia was, but learning from previous mistakes he did not ask. As a general rule, nobody in Sirius' family was actually a nice person.

Shrugging, he levitated the glasses into the big bin bag in the middle of the room. "Guess I don't have to ask about the rest of these, then?"

Sirius shook his head, not even bothering to look, but after a few seconds added: "Actually, leave the alcohol. Never know when we might need it."

Remus hesitated, feeling uneasiness rise in him. He had been surprised, if he was honest with himself, that Sirius hadn't mentioned it before, or even gone out himself to buy some. Back in their youth the animagus had always been the quickest to suggest a pint, or maybe something stronger. And yet, Remus had hoped that in the face of Harry's presence his resolution might last longer.

"Padfoot..."

"I'm not gonna drink it with Harry here," Sirius snapped, rolling his eyes. "Just...leave it, alright?"

The uneasy feeling stayed, but Remus silently obliged. _Sirius isn't an idiot,_ he reminded himself, _he would never jeopardize Harry._

 _He's not really himself all the time though, is he?_ A quiet voice in the back of his head countered. _He might..._

"What about all this?" he asked, not wanting to dwell on it further, and quickly went on to inspect a large glass display showing various medals. "There's actually an Order of Merlin in here."

Sirius, who was systematically burning a huge stack of ancient letters, snorted once more. "Probably Granddad's. He basically bought it, after hearing that Abraxas Malfoy had one. Throw them away, before Kreacher finds a way to save them."

Obligingly, Remus sent the contents of the display case towards the bin bag. "Shouldn't we do something about him?" he asked thoughtfully, remembering the ancient looking house elf that had greeted them when they first came here. He was ashamed to admit that he had almost forgotten about him. "You can't keep him looked upstairs forever."

Sirius looked unconcerned. "Can't I? It's not like he's going to starve, and judging by the state of this house he wasn't doing any cleaning anyway. Look, you don't know him. He's a filthy little git, and he'd only find a way to scare Harry if I let him come downstairs. Frankly, I'd set him free if I didn't know he'd go straight to Narcissa."

Remus sighed. "If you say so," he said, unconvinced. His own experience with house elves was very limited – the only pure-blood house he'd regularly gone to were the Potters, and Euphemia and Fleamont hadn't owned an elf – but from what he'd seen, Sirius' treatment of Kreacher was less than ideal.

"Just...you should really tell Harry about your family."

Burning the last letter and flicking the ash towards the bin bag, Sirius shrugged. "I will if you tell him about the furry little problem"

Remus didn't answer. _I'll tell if you will._ It had been going like this for days now, with no sign of either of them conceding. Apparently Harry really would have to find out for himself.

 _Marvellous. There's absolutely no way this is going to end in disaster..._

* * *

It was in the middle of the night when Harry woke up, but even though he still felt tired, he could not go back to sleep, however hard he tried. His dreams had been strange, full of disembodied voices tiny little creatures that vanished as soon as he turned to look at them.

Also, he was thirsty.

Harry hesitated. On most days, Sirius or Remus left a glass of water on his nightstand in the evening, but tonight, after the business with the Doxies, they must've forgotten.

 _It's only across the corridor..._ but the corridor was terrifying at night.

But he was _really_ thirsty.

After a few more minutes of contemplation if he should wake Sirius – his godfather had told him to just knock on the wall really hard whenever he had a nightmare, and he'd always come and get him – Harry decided to go on his own.

It was ridiculous to be afraid. The pirate couldn't come inside, there were no vampires, and the wardrobe he had left open overnight so that no dragon could hide in there. (A trick Remus had shown him.)

And he had Prongs with him, after all.

Determined, he pushed back the covers and swung his legs out of the bed, searching for his slippers. It was rather cold, and so he also took a jumper. Thus equipped he carefully made his way towards the door, opening it just a crack to peer into the empty hallway.

It was dark like his room, the weak light from the street lanterns flooding in through the narrow window above the stairs. Nothing moved.

Carefully, he opened the door further. It creaked in its hinges, but the sound quickly faded into quietness. Taking a deep breath and pulling Prongs protectively to his chest he stepped outside.

Part of him expected a monster to jump out at him, or maybe the portrait to start screaming. When nothing of the sort happened, relief flooded through him. But he was just about to make a dash for the bathroom when he heard it.

Low, grief-stricken wailing, muffled by a wooden ceiling.

He jumped and almost screamed when for a split-second he thought a ghost would come for him. But then he realized that he actually knew the voice. And knew where it came from.

His heart pounding madly in his chest, Harry made a decision.

The higher floors were scary even by daylight, but somehow the excitement about finally hearing the Oompa-Loompa again banished fear into the far corners of his mind.

Why was he sad? Was he hurt? He wondered if he should wake up Sirius, but somehow his feet just carried him further up the stairs.

The wailing grew louder, and this time Harry had no problem understanding the words as he grew closer, although what he could hear was interrupted by sobs and cries of anguish.

"They took it! They too it all! Kreacher...the Master took it all away, all the treasures, the noble...Kreacher tried, tried is best to serve the noble House, but the Master...oh, what would Mistress say? Bad Kreacher!"

Another sob, and the sound of something heavy hitting against wood.

Harry hesitated. The last time he had tried to talk to the creature it had fled, and he didn't want to scare it again. But it sounded very miserable, and maybe he could help...

Harry decided to knock. That was only polite, after all, as Remus and Sirius never entered his room without knocking (or sometimes barking) either.

Carefully he lifted his fist and rapped it against the ancient woods a few times. The sobbing stopped instantly, replaced by the sound of heavy breathing.

"Mr...Mr Oompa-Loompa?" Harry asked timidly. "Are you alright?"

A squeak sounded from behind the door. "Bad Kreacher! Brat mustn't see Kreacher!" Then there was a plop, and Harry knew without opening the door that the Oompa-Loompa had gone.

His hand slowly fell down again as he tried to contemplate what had just happened.

If he wasn't mistaken, the Oompa-Loompa called himself Kreacher. It was a strange name, Harry thought, but then he was a strange person.

And apparently someone had taken his treasure away. Harry remembered the nest he had seen, and wondered who on earth would steal things like that. But there had also been something about a master, and serving...was Kreacher a slave? Was Master the same person who made him live in the cupboard? And _who_ was it? Were there more people like Kreacher living in this house?

 _The brat mustn't see Kreacher..._

Harry assumed that the brat meant him. He'd been called brat a few times by Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, and he assumed that it wasn't a very nice word. Maybe Kreacher was mad at Harry for having snooped around his cupboard?

But why wasn't Harry allowed to see Kreacher? Another rule by this mysterious Master?

"Harry?"

This time he really did squeak, jumping into the air when the voice sounded around him.

Remus stopped, quickly brining up his arms in a calming gesture. "I'm sorry, Harry! I didn't mean to scare you...What are you doing up here?"

Remus looked like he had already been in bed; he was wearing a faded blue pyjama and his hair looked almost as bad as Harry's did.

"I..I was going to get a glass of water, and then I heard something," Harry said slowly, wondering if Remus had heard the Oompa-Loompa too, and if he was angry that Harry had disobeyed orders.

There was a flicker of concern in Remus' eyes, but his smile stayed. "Really?" he said, coming to stand next to Harry and looking around the deserted corridor. "What was it?"

"Dunno," Harry muttered quietly, looking down in the hopes that Remus wouldn't read the truth in his eyes.

But his luck held, and Remus seemed to believe him. "Probably just a portrait," he said, throwing one last glance behind him before putting a hand on Harry's shoulder and gently guiding him back towards the stairs. "They start arguing sometimes. But you really shouldn't have come up here on your own, Harry. Remember what Sirius and I told you?"

Harry ducked his head, feeling guilt creep up in him. Remus had lapsed into his teacher voice which always made Harry want to confess all his sins. But he stayed strong and simply gave a meek nod. "That it could be dangerous and that I shouldn't touch anything. But I didn't touch anything!"

Remus smiled. "Good. Now how about you go ahead back to bed and I bring you that glass of water?"

Relieved, Harry nodded and rushed back to his own room. But on the way his eyes fell on the door to the drawing room, still opened form the cleaning campaign, and the big bin bag that stood in its middle. It wasn't closed properly, and Harry could see various silver items poking out of it.

He stopped, remembering Kreacher's nest, and a smile crept onto his face. Suddenly he knew how he might help the Oompa-Loompa.

* * *

 **I'm with Sirius; I'd totally play Sex Pistols to a kid...probably a good thing I don't have any.  
**

 **Don't forget to review ;)**


	15. Kreacher Comforts

**I apologize for the delay; I'm travelling and didn't find the time to post this earlier. As always, thanks for your comments :)**

 **Aile d'Argent: :D That sounds like an awesome idea for a spin-off...although with two Marauders in the house, Kreacher and Harry would probably have soe strong competition.**

 **Guest: Good point about the house elves! Totally forgot about that, to be honest. But I suppose there's still a difference between having them wait on you in the school kitchen and actually being responsible for one.  
**

 **Eniluap12: Thanks! About Kreacher, I won't go into much detail, but I will freely admit that I sort of copied their "reconciliation" from Rowling (as seen in this chapter). Some-kind-of-friend sounds pretty apt, though XD**

 **HolwlingBlack: Sorry to disappoint :/ But I'm flattered you'll still keep reading :)**

 **KlausNeedsCaroline: Damn, that would've actually been an interesting plotline...maybe some other time.**

 **Skybox: I don't think either Remus or Sirius would ever take that much of a risk. Even if Remus stayed there during the full moon, Sirius would make sure to watch Harry the whole night. About the hints...I do have it planned out, but I wouldn't like to spoil it. It will be a longer story arch, even though this story probably won't have more than 20-25 chapters. If you really want to know how it'll play out, I can tell you via PM, but I'd rather not do so here for fear of spoiling others who might want to keep it a surprise. That being said, he definitely WILL be free at some point. Good point about the Sex Pistols!**

 **tinkerbelldetention101: Aww! I'm flattered you're reading this to your kid, and really happy they like it! (And I do apologize for any language that might not be appropriate for that age)  
**

 **Worldmaker: I went through them again, and I think you are right about breaking up the dialogue. I did change it at some point, but never went back to redo the old ones. I'll fix it as soon as I have access to a proper computer again.**

 **Guest: Yes, that's him ;)**

* * *

 **Kreacher Comforts**

"Mr Kreacher?"

There was no answer, but Harry could swear he heard movement behind the heavy wooden door.

"I...I brought you coffee again," he continued uncertainly. After realizing that it might be viewed as trespassing, he didn't want to just burst in. "And...and I brought you a few things from downstairs. I'm afraid I don't know what your things looked like that were stolen, but these are nice, too. You can have them; we don't need them."

Technically, Harry had stolen them as well. Last night, after having seen the enormous pile of silverware that Sirius and Remus had thrown out, he had thought that it really was a shame to let it all go to waste when upstairs there was a sad little Oompa-Loompa who liked shiny things. So he had waited in his bed until he was sure Remus had gone back to sleep, before sneaking back out again, and carefully extracting a few nicer looking things from the pile of rubbish.

"I'll...I'll just leave them here," he said quietly when there was still no answer, and set down his cargo in front of the door. "I'm sorry that someone stole your things." After a few more seconds of hesitation he reluctantly turned around and slowly walked back the way he had come.

He was already around the corner and had one foot on the stairs when suddenly he heard the distinct creaking of ancient door hinges. Harry stopped, holding his breath. Was it...He didn't dare to turn around, for fear of startling the Oompa-Loompa. So he simply listened.

"The brat says it brought Kreacher coffee...Kreacher likes coffee. Brat sorry...Kreacher doesn't believe bra-" the voice stopped, followed by a sharp intake of breath. "Brat has...brought Kreacher gifts?" Now the voice sounded disbelieving, and there was a slight tremble in it.

Harry decided to risk it. "You... You can have them," he said, still without turning around. "Sirius and Remus don't need them anymore, so I'm sure they don't mind. I thought you might like them."

"Kreacher can...have them?" the voice croaked, and for the first time Harry heard no bitterness in it. It sounded surprised, and even a little bit happy.

He nodded quickly, his gaze firmly fixed on the narrow window in front of him. "Yes. Do you like them? I'm Harry, by the way. I live here, with Sirius and Remus."

Kreacher didn't react immediately, and for a moment Harry thought he heard sniffing. Then, completely unexpected, the mood changed. "Brat mustn't see Kreacher!" the Oompa-Loompa suddenly screeched, "Brat mustn't know Kreacher is here, no, no!"

There was a now familiar plop, and as Harry turned around he could just make out the vanishing figure. The coffee was still there, but the bag with the silver was gone. Before Harry could think on that, however, he heard another plop, sounding as if it came from upstairs, followed by persistent banging.

Without thinking, Harry raced up the stairs, not caring if Sirius or Remus heard him.

It didn't take him long to find out which door the Oompa-Loompa was hiding behind, as the sound of something hammering against wood was easy to follow.

"Kreacher?" Are you okay?"

The banging stopped, and there was another plop. Harry tried to open the door, but it was locked. Seconds later, the banging started again, coming from even further above him.

This time Harry was more careful in approaching the door, making sure to keep his steps light. What was Kreacher doing? It sounded like he was hitting a wardrobe or something...And were those cries of pain?

Harry crouched down a little so he could peer through the keyhole. And froze.

The Oompa-Loompa was hitting his head against a drawer, again and again and with great force. Harry could see a bruise already forming between his bat-like ears.

He stumbled back a few steps in horror.

Why was Kreacher doing this? Was he cursed? Was someone _making_ him do it? He remembered a spell that Sirius had told him about, an evil curse that forced people to do things they didn't want to do.

Was Kreacher cursed? Had this Master done this to him?

He felt tears pricking in his eyes as he listened to the grunts of pain coming from the room.

"Please stop!" he cried through the door, desperation rising in him. "I'm sorry I looked at you! Please don't hurt yourself! I...I can get help! I can get Sirius, he's my godfather, I'm sure he'd help you! Just...please stop!"

To his utter relief, the banging really did stop.

For a moment there was silence, but when Harry peered through the keyhole once more he could still see the Oompa-Loompa, apparently talking to himself again. Quickly, Harry pressed his ear to the door.

"-of Master...Brat lives here now, brat is part of the family...Kreacher likes brat, brat brings Kreacher nice coffee and brat lets Kreacher have Master Arcturus' Order...brat is one of Kreacher's masters now, yes..."

Harry stared at the door in horror. Kreacher's master? After what he had gathered about the Master, it was not a nice person to be. But he was far too relieved that the Oompa-Loompa had stopped hurting himself to protest.

"Are you alright, Mr Kreacher?"

There was a short silence, interrupted by heavy grunting. It sounded rather like Kreacher was fighting with himself. But then his voice rang through the door, louder this time, and for the first time he addressed Harry directly.

"Does the brat wishes Kreacher to talk to it?"

Startled by this strange question – and the way it was asked, the harsh words in stark contrast to the neutral, almost hopeful tone – Harry wasn't sure how to react. "Uhm...yes... if you don't mind?"

More huffing, as Kreacher seemed to mull Harry's words over. Finally, he spoke again. "Then Kreacher is allowed to talk to the brat. Kreacher thanks the brat for the generous offer. The brat is very kind to Kreacher, and Kreacher likes the brat. Even though its very presence sullies the noble House of Black."

"Uhm...thanks?" Harry was very confused. Kreacher seemed to like and hate him at the same time, yet he had no idea why.

But before he could mull it over, the realization caught up with him. Kreacher had talked to him! For whatever reason, and in whatever strange way, he could finally talk to the Oompa-Loompa! All those questions he wanted to ask...

A scream rang through the house, full of shock and pain.

Harry froze. Remus!

* * *

"Four sugars? Full moon's not for another three days, is it?"

Remus merely shrugged, stirring his cup as he moved back to the kitchen table. "Just felt like it. Since when do you care about tea?"

"Was just wondering..." Sirius studied his friend more closely. They were there, tell-tale signs of an approaching moon. Bags under his eyes, pale, tired face and the slightly glazed eyes. It filled him with worry.

Back at Hogwarts, the full moon had always be visible on Remus as well – nowhere more so than in the obscene amount of sugar he heaped into this mug, where he usually would have skinned any person alive who dared sweeten his tea – but they had never started earlier than the day before. Yet now, days away, Remus looked just as tired as he had back then.

Was it getting worse? He knew, of course, that the transformations would get harder with age, that Remus' body was not bouncing back as quickly as it had in their late teens. But they weren't that old yet – they weren't even thirty, for Merlin's sake!

"Where's Harry?" Remus asked, obviously guessing Sirius' thoughts and clearly not wanting to discuss it.

"Doing his homework; he said he was gonna come down later. It's been taking him a while, though. You're not overburdening him, are you? Contrary to what you may believe, not all seven-year-old boys love geography."

Remus rolled his eyes. "I just gave him a map to fill out." He yawned, and Sirius noticed the hand rubbing over his arm, the place where Greyback had bitten him. The old wound always ached when the full moon approached, Sirius knew.

 _But not this soon...Merlin, we're not actually getting old, are we?_

"I've read about a potion," he said, using his observations as a starting point for something he had been meaning to bring up. "There was something about it in the Prophet the other day. Have you heard of it?"

Remus didn't have to ask what Sirius was talking about. "I...have," he said, nodding slowly, and casting Sirius a weary look. "Wolfsbane Potion. It's been in development quite a while; there was a very ugly incident with the testing a couple of years back."

Sirius winced. "Sorry, didn't know that. They didn't mention..."

Remus scoffed. "Course not," he muttered, bitterness in his voice. "One werewolf less, who cares. Surprised they've written about it at all."

They were silent for a while. "Have you ever tried it?" Sirius finally asked. "It sounded helpful."

"No," Remus shook his head, not looking up from his tea. "There was a call for test subjects, with a promise of supply once it was finished, and I thought about enlisting...but it would've meant registration."

Sirius winced again at the thought of his friend serving as a lab rat. Ugly incident...He shuddered.

"What about now?" he continued, "it's openly available now. From what they said it was safe."

"It's also very expensive," Remus said, shooting him a pointed look. When Sirius opened his mouth to protest, he quickly added, "and it's only sold to registered werewolves. You need ministerial permission to buy it."

Sirius' mouth fell open. "What!? That's ridiculous!"

"It's their way of keeping tabs on us," Remus shrugged. "There've long been campaigns to get more werewolves to register – unsurprisingly with all the legislation, few do so voluntarily – and this one is like a godsend to them. It's backfiring magnificently, of course. Most of those who are registered are ferals, and they don't care for the potion. Those who might be interested are the ones trying to live a normal life, and they'll never register voluntarily. Needless to say, there hasn't been much demand for the potion."

Sirius stared at him disbelievingly. "That's just...what kind of lunatic would do that? Do they have mountain trolls running the ministry or what?"

"Close," Remus muttered, still staring at the table.

"Think we could forge that permit?" Sirius mused, "Or bribe someone? With legislation that dumb surely there's some unlicensed stuff in Knockturn Alley to be had."

"Leave it," Remus said, "I've been doing fine for years without it."

But Sirius could see the true reason for his reluctance in his eyes.

 _Money._

It had always been a touchy subject. They had avoided it until now, but Sirius knew that they couldn't keep doing so.

"I really should pay you," he started, watching his friend's face carefully. As expected, it immediately closed.

"Don't."

"Oh, come on! You _need_ money! And it's my fault you're stuck in here, practically a criminal. So it's only fair I should compensate you."

"I helped you as a friend," Remus said tersely, "not a paid goon."

Sirius flinched. "That's not...you know I didn't mean it like that," he tried to amend. "Look, I don't plan to shower you with gold. It's not charity, but just compensation. You cook for us, you teach Harry-"

"Because I care about him. Because I w _ant_ to. And I _don't_ want your money."

"Moony, be reasonable!"

"I am reasonable! I eat your food and sleep in your house. That's payment enough, don't you think?"

 _Bloody Hell. I forgot how stubborn that sodding werewolf could be._

"No, it's not!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and rounding the table so he could shake Remus by the shoulders. "I'll pay you, and if I have to force it down your throat knut by knut. And it's not gonna be much – I plan to pay you far below the minimum wage, actually – but you will take it. Save it all up and use it to buy me a birthday present if it makes you happy – I _do_ expect a birthday present, actually. And a bloody great one at that; you've got six years to make up for. Understood?"

Remus stared at him for a moment, perplexed by this sudden ferocity, until finally a small grin spread on his face. "You really are nothing but a spoilt little child, aren't you?"

"Now you're getting it," Sirius grinned, returning to his place, and sat back down with a triumphant huff. "Don't expect any paid leave, by the way."

Remus chuckled, before finishing his tea and rising to his feet. "Wouldn't dream of it. I'll just pop out to get some more vegetables, we're almost out. Any preferences?"

Sirius snorted. "Yeah, _none_. How about some of that frozen pizza instead? It's amazing!"

Remus rolled his eyes, not even bothering to answer as he made his way to the front door.

A second later, a pained cry rang through the hallway.

Sirius jumped up, knocking over a chair as he bolted out of the kitchen but barely caring. "Moony!"

He found him in the hallway, stumbling backwards through the open front door and clutching his side. Sirius stomach churned when he noticed the blood seeping through Remus' fingers, drenching his worn jumper and falling to the ground in thick droplets.

"Merlin's...what happened!?" He rushed forward to catch Remus when the werewolf's legs failed him, struggling to keep him upward.

"Apparated...must've blocked it..."

 _Spliched. He splinched himself._

"Fucking...Moony, how bad is it? Can you make it to the kitchen?" He didn't know if he should feel relieved that their defences had not been broken, or scared at the rapid blood loss.

 _If there's internal damage..._ Neither he nor Remus were particularly well-trained healers.

"I can... _Harry_ ," Remus grunted, and when Sirius looked up he saw his godson standing on the stairs, his face pale as a ghost and his eyes open in shock and fear.

"Remus?"

 _Fuck._

"He's...he's just had a little accident, Harry. Nothing we can't fix. Just...why don't you make Remus a cup of tea? He'll need it to feel better."

Harry didn't move, still staring at the blood falling onto the faded carpets in thick drops of crimson. "What happened?" he squeaked, panic in his voice.

"He just...stumbled. It's nothing, I promise. Just make that tea and I'll fix him up, alright?" Sirius pleaded, feeling helpless desperation rise as Remus slumped further against him, probably losing consciousness. "Please, Harry. Just go make tea, okay? It'll all be fine, I promise!"

Finally Harry moved, slowly and hesitantly, but Sirius barely gave him another look as he heaved Remus upright once more and slowly dragged him towards the study.

" _Accio Dittany_ ," he yelled, cutting Remus' jumper open and wincing when he saw the enormous gash that went across half his upper body.

But as bad as it was, it didn't look like Remus had splinched any organs, and halfway through the healing procedure his eyes fluttered open once more amidst a groan of pain.

"Padfoot...where's...Harry?"

"Sent him to make you a cup of tea. Freaked out, obviously. How do you feel? Can you breath properly? Any other wounds?"

Remus managed to nod. "F-Fine," he muttered weakly, wincing at the bandages that wrapped around his ribcage. "N-New clothes. Don't want Harry to see—"

Sirius rolled his eyes, but obligingly summoned a dressing gown from downstairs and carefully wrapped it around his friend, who was sitting up already. "Lie down, Moony."

But Remus ignored him, smiling instead at something behind Sirius. "Hello Harry. I'm sorry I gave you such a fright."

Sirius whirled around and saw his godson standing in the doorframe, looking scared and hopeful at the same time. "Are you okay, Remus?"

"Perfectly fine," Remus smiled, sitting up a little straighter, "Sirius fixed me up. Is that tea for me?"

Harry nodded hastily and stumbled forward, sloshing a little on the floor in his hurry. "What happened? Were you cursed? Was it the-"

"I wasn't attacked, don't worry," Remus said quickly. "I just made a mistake while apparating. But it's nothing; I'm perfectly fine now."

He held out his arms, and Harry rushed forward to hug him, obvious relief strewn over his face. "I was scared. I'm glad you're oaky."

"I'm glad I'm okay too, Harry," Remus smiled, though Sirius could see him grimace in pain over the boys shoulder as pressure was put on the fresh wounds.

He quickly stepped forward. "I'm afraid Remus needs to rest now, Harry. Why don't you go upstairs while I'll tuck him in? I'll be with you in a few minutes, and then we can read, how's that sound? I promise and try to do the voices properly."

Harry hesitated, obviously still very shaken, but finally he nodded. "Okay. I hope you get better soon, Remus."

"I'm sure I will"

Remus smile stayed on his face exactly as long as it took Harry to leave the room, before he went pale again and slumped back with another painful moan.

"Reopened?"

Remus nodded, grimacing. "That was stupid," Sirius admonished, pulling out his wand to fix the damage, "I'd have managed to calm him down, no need to go all martyr again."

"Didn't want him to worry," Remus said through gritted teeth. "And I've had worse." He frowned. "It was my own fault, really. I usually check for wards, but this time I just forgot..."

Sirius nodded slowly, as the reality of what had just happened caught up with him.

Anti-Apparition wards... _they were stuck_.

"Who do you think placed them? Dumbledore?"

Remus shook his head. "Not in his power. They'd need clearance from the ministry, so there's at least MLE involved."

"But he was the one who knew we were here," Sirius said, "So he's definitely part of it... _bastard._ "

"Doesn't matter who did it," Remus said, "Question is, what do we do? If we can't get out..."

"We're stocked up on food, aren't we?" Sirius asked, remembering the heaps of tins, cookies and other keeping foodstuff that Remus had bought when they first moved in. "Should be able to last quite a while. Even though I admit that I wasn't hoping for this when I asked for no more vegetables..."

He chuckled, before another thought entered his mind. And judging by the last hint of colour leaving his face, Remus had just had the same idea.

The full moon was in three days, and they had no way to leave.

* * *

 **Yay! A cliffhanger! (sort of)  
**

 **I'll try to get the next chapter up on Wednesday as ususal, but I'm not sure where I'll be at that time, and if there'll be internet. But I'll have it up on Friday the latest!**

 **Don't forget to review! :)**


	16. The Werewolf in the Room

**I apologize for the delay; as feared I did not have access to a computer last week. But here's an extra fluffy chapter to make up for it :)  
**

 **Guest(1): Good point, totally forgot that Harry was actually related to the Blacks. But I'm afraid his mother being muggleborn will erase any chance of Kreacher accepting his blood status.**

 **Loves to read books: To be honest, that idiocy isn't really limited to wizarding government, is it? But yes, the ministry are rather moronic in all of this.**

 **ErekLich: For the same reasons Sirius didn't do so in the books, I think. Chances are slim anybody believe them without any proof, while giving out facts like that could lead to them being captured. Being an animagus is a very useful disguise, and if Sirius was to explain everything to them he would lose that advantage. That being said, Remus did write a letter to Dumbledore, and he did believe them. The problem here is that Sirius doesn't trust Dumbledore , and Dumbledore still wants to get Harry back to Privet Drive, something he knows Sirius is against.  
**

 **Guest(2): I thought about that tunnel idea, actually, but my guess is that the old wizard houses have safeguards against that sort of thing, as it would make breaking in rather easy.**

 **DarkNutDestroyer: A lot of money. Not all of it, obviously, but enough for them to last a couple of years. I'm not familiar with the exchange rates between muggle and wizard money, however, so I can't out it in Galleons or pounds.**

* * *

 **The Werewolf in the Room**

"So what do we do?"

Remus didn't answer, staring at the mug in his hand. It was almost midnight; Harry had fallen asleep long ago, exhausted and anxious, curled up next to Padfoot. But now he was sleeping, and Sirius had come down again to figure out what on earth they would do about this new development. So far, all they had come up with was fifteen minutes of silence.

"Is there a way to break it?"

Remus sighed, shaking his head, and finally spoke. "No, not with only two wands." He paused. "I think we should contact Dumbledore," he finally said, throwing a cautious glance over to his friend. As expected, Sirius' face immediately darkened. "You were right; he must be the one behind it, or at least have the power to lift it," Remus said quickly, "and we need to get out of here. _I_ need to get out of here."

"If he was about to help us, he'd already have done so," Sirius said, his jaw tightening. "Instead, he's locked us in. He _wants_ us to contact him. To give in. And we can't let him win."

"Well, we can't stay in here forever, either," Remus countered. "We don't have a broom to fly out the window; we can't go out the front door because it is being watched. So unless your roof-climbing skill are impressively greater than mine, we are stuck."

Sirius remained stubborn. "We'll figure something out. I checked; there's enough food to last us at least a month. Plenty of time to come up with a solution."

" _You_ have a month," Remus corrected. "I have three days." He could feel the moon already, draining his body, seeping into this mind. The monster within that he had no way to control. The monster that would kill Harry in the blink of an eye.

"I'll...I'll have to leave," he said slowly, frowning as the realization struck him.

He didn't want to go. He didn't want to lose Sirius again, to lose Harry... but there was no other way. If he stayed, he would just endanger both of them. And it was alright, really. He'd had his friend back for another few weeks; he knew that Harry would be happy...

"You should probably wipe my mind. I think I could fend off legilimency, but they might use Veritaserum."

It took Sirius a moment to understand was he was talking about, but when he did all he gave was a dismissive snort. "You're not gonna hand yourself in, Moony!" he exclaimed, "Are you insane?"

"What's the alternative? Stay here and murder the two of you?"

"You won't...we'll ward off the attic, like I said. I'll seal all the staircases, hell, I'll _remove_ the staircases if you want me to, and I'll stay with Harry. It'll be safe."

"It's not-"

"You transformed in your parents' basement as a child, didn't you? What's the difference?"

"The difference is that Harry-"

"He'll be safe. I'll keep him safe. I won't let you touch him, I promise."

"Padfoot won't be enough to hold the wolf, I told you-"

Sirius didn't let him finish, his voice suddenly very quiet. "I'm not talking about Padfoot. I've got a Newt in Defence Against the Dark Art, Remus. I know how to take care of a werewolf."

For a moment there eyes met, and Remus could see the promise in those grey eyes.

 _If it comes to it, I will kill you._

He felt his determination waver. Fear and hope warred in his mind as he tried to come to terms with the conflicting voices in his head.

Sirius was right, he knew. They could make it safe. Together, they could cast wards much stronger than anything Remus' father had come up with, and with the spacious house he might even be far enough away to not smell the humans. And if it came to the worst, Sirius would keep his promise.

 _You won't be able to touch Harry._

And yet...it went against all of his instincts. He was a monster; he had to be secluded, separated from anything human, anything _good_...

 _You don't want to give it up, though. You don't want to lose them again, to lose_ hope _..._

And he knew that he had already made his decision.

"We have to tell him," he said slowly after the silence had stretched. "About what I am. If I am to be in the same house with him, he has to know."

* * *

"Harry? Can you stay a while? We have something to talk to you about."

Harry flinched halfway on his way to the sink, his empty plate almost crashing to the floor.

 _Something to talk to you about..._

Did they know? Had they found out he was sneaking up to the third floor to talk to Kreacher?

But when he slowly sunk back into his chair he could see no anger on Remus' or Sirius' face, just something like – worry?

Was this about Remus' accident? Was he getting worse? He looked rather ill, now that Harry thought about it. Fear shot up in him again as he remembered the blood that had drenched Remus' jumper. But he had seemed fine; he had told Harry that he was fine…

"Harry," Sirius began slowly, interrupting his panicking thoughts. His voice was grave, a tone that Harry had almost never heard from him. "Do you remember how Remus got ill last month and had to go away for a night?"

Harry's stomach constricted as he felt his fear confirmed. "But you said he was better!" he exclaimed, not caring how whiny his voice sounded, "You said he was alright now!"

Sirius winced, obviously not expecting such a strong reaction. "He is," he said quickly, moving his chair closer to Harry's and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "He's perfectly healthy – or will be, anyway. Because you see, the thing is, he's getting ill again this month."

Harry threw Remus an uncertain look. "Because of his accident?"

The other man gave a short smile, but it didn't look very happy. "No, that was just my own carelessness, I'm afraid. It doesn't have anything to do with this, actually."

Now, Harry was completely confused. "But then what's wrong with you?"

There was a short pause.

"Well...Remus is getting sick every month, Harry. It's an illness, one that doesn't go away. But it's only for one night every month."

"What kind of illness?" Harry asked, looking at Remus with curious eyes. He looked tired, yes, but there was no tell-tale sign of what might be wrong with it. No runny nose, no spotted skin, no broken limbs. Maybe it was some sort of internal disease?

"It's..." Sirius began, before looking up at Remus.

"I'm a werewolf, Harry," the other man finally said, his voice sounding very hoarse.

Harry stared at him, wondering if he had heard correctly.

A... _werewolf?_

"Werewolves are real, too?"

Remus seemed surprised, but nodded quickly.

Harry frowned, thinking.

"You don't look like a werewolf," he finally said, remembering everything he had heard about them. None of it sounded like Remus.

Behind him, Sirius gave off a weird sounding noise. "Told you!" he muttered, but Remus didn't even appear to hear him as he stared at Harry.

Harry flinched, realizing that it was probably not a very nice thing to say. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, staring at the ground. "it's just...I don't even know what a real werewolf looks like. I mean...I guess I do _now_..."

Behind him, Sirius was shaking with something that could only be silent laughter, although Harry didn't know what was so funny, while Remus seemed to be left completely speechless.

Just as Harry was starting to wonder if he really had insulted him, Sirius regained the ability to speak. "They're just people," he said, his arm still resting around Harry's shoulder, "Werewolves don't really look like anything sspecific – I mean, outside of the full moon, anyway. That's when they get hairy."

Harry's eyes wandered back to Remus, and he tried to imagine him turning into a wolf. It was very hard.

"It's why he gets ill," Sirius continued. "The change is not a very nice thing to go through, and it makes him very tired."

"Oh," Harry made, feeling sympathy rise in him. "Isn't there a cure?" There usually was a cure in fairy-tales.

But Remus shook his head. "It's incurable," he said quietly. "And it makes me dangerous. Once I transform, I..." he hesitated, and his gaze dropped. He looked sadder than Harry had ever seen him. "The wolf takes over. I would kill anybody coming close to me."

"Oh," Harry made again, unsure what to make of this. It sounded terrible. Then he remembered the conversation he had overheard weeks earlier, when Remus had left for the night – to transform, as Harry now understood. Sirius had sounded terribly worried.

"Does it hurt?" he asked uncertainly.

"I-" Again, Remus seemed surprised as his eyes shot up to Harry. "Yes," he finally said, still staring at Harry as if he was trying to figure something out.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, slipping out of his chair and hurrying over to Remus to hug him. "I'm sorry you get hurt."

There was a sliver of hesitation, but then he felt Remus' arms wrap around him as he was drawn into a firm hug. Remus appeared to be shivering, even though it wasn't very cold in the kitchen – but then Sirius had said that he got sick, so it was probably that. Harry held him tighter, hoping to warm him.

When they finally separated, Remus' eyes looked very runny. Did he have a cold, too?

"The thing is, Harry," Sirius said when he had retaken his seat, "Usually; Remus leaves the house to transform, because he doesn't want to hurt you. But the ministry has found a way to lock us in, so we can't leave right now." He paused, obviously waiting for Harry to react in some way.

But Harry didn't know how to react. Of course, being locked in sounded bad...but he hadn't liked leaving anyway, and this way at least Sirius and Remus would be safe inside. So he just settled on "Ah."

"Well...that means that Remus can't leave for the full moon on Tuesday. It'll be perfectly safe of course," Sirius added quickly, his grip on Harry's shoulder tightening. "He'll go up to the attic and we'll lock it and put spells on it so that he can't escape. But we thought you should know."

Harry nodded. "Okay..." He wasn't worried, no matter what Remus had said about his werewolf from being violent. Sirius and Remus were brilliant wizards; they would certainly be able to keep the werewolf locked up. But then, another thought struck him.

 _He_ might be kept safe by Sirius, but what about the other inhabitant of the house?

* * *

"Kreacher?"

There was no answer, and Harry wondered if the Oompa-Loompa had even heard him. He nervously glanced down the corridor, not daring to speak louder in case Sirius or Remus might hear him. Right now they were both still in the kitchen, having sent Harry to get ready for bed, but Sirius had promised that he'd be up soon. Harry had to hurry.

"Kreacher?" he whispered again, knocking tentatively on the wooden door. There was still no answer, but just as he lifted his hand to try and open the door, a soft pop sounded from behind the wood.

"Master Brat has called for Kreacher?" Harry jumped at the hoarse voice, nearly stumbling to the ground.

"I...You don't have to call me Master," Harry whispered through the wood, – _or brat_ , he silently added – glancing behind him once more to listen for signs of Sirius walking up the stairs. Deciding that this was not the time to discuss proper forms of address, he quickly added, "I just came to warn you. It's the full moon this Tuesday, and the government people have locked us in. So Remus has to transform in here that night, in the attic. He says he's dangerous. Remus is-"

"The half-breed stays here?" Kreacher said, sounding surprised but not afraid at all. "Maybe the half-breed will rip apart the Master..."

"I don't think Remus wants to rip apart anybody," Harry said uncertainly, confused by this sudden bout of violence, before another thing came into his mind. "How do you know he's a werewolf? He only just told me."

"Kreacher knows. Oh yes, Kreacher knows the miserable shame that has been brought on this sacred place, defiling the noble family home. Kreacher knows of the half-breed."

His hostility confused Harry even further, but at that moment he heard the kitchen door open. "Just...take care, okay? Don't go upstairs on Tuesday night. I don't want you to get hurt. I gotta go."

No waiting for Kreacher's answer he raced down the stairs, narrowly slipping into the bathroom before Sirius' head appeared in the hallway.

* * *

"Are you okay?"

It had been almost five minutes since Harry had left, yet Remus still hadn't moved. If Sirius hadn't known him well enough he might have thought his friend was having a stroke.

At the sound of Sirius' voice, Remus finally turned his head, his eyes slowly focusing on him. There was a stunned look on his face, and the beginnings of what might be a smile. "Yes, I..." his voice faltered.

"Still think he's going to hate you?" Sirius asked, not managing to keep the amusement out of his voice.

He felt euphoric. Of course he hadn't expected Harry to react badly – he was James' and Lily's son, after all – but even so he could not have hoped for a better outcome. Harry truly was a wonderful child.

"He might still," Remus said quietly, his voice hoarse. "He doesn't know what it means yet. The way you described it... it wasn't very accurate."

Sirius snorted. Trust Remus to be pessimistic even in moments like this. "It was more accurate than the gobshite they teach in DADA," he countered. "And we did tell him werewolves are deadly. Blame his mother that the only thing he took away from it was you hurting." He grinned, relieved when the smile finally broke its way on Remus' face. "Actually, he _did_ react a lot like Lily, didn't he? 'Cept for the crying."

The werewolf managed a choked laugh. "I think I can handle that bit," he mumbled, and Sirius could indeed see moisture gathering in his eyes.

But they were tears of happiness and relief, and his face shone with a joy that Sirius hadn't seen on it for a very long time. "Actually, would you mind checking on Harry now? I'm really not comfortable with you watching me cry."

Sirius barked a laugh and rose to his feet, stopping to pat his friend on the shoulder on his way to the door.

"Cry all you want, little rabbit."

* * *

Harry was still in the bathroom when he came up, so he used to time to dig through the liquor cabinet in the drawing room, trying to find a bottle that did not look like it contained at least thirty per cent troll blood. He felt like celebrating, and he was certain that even Remus wouldn't say no to a glass or two once he had gotten over his emotional breakdown.

When he came back, the bottle of Odgen's finest safely stowed away in his pocket, Harry was already sitting in bed, Prongs clutched to his side and an expectant look on his face. Sirius grinned, spotting the book on the nightstand.

"Think you can do with me today? I promise to try and do the voices as well as Remus."

Harry nodded quickly, moving aside so that Sirius could sit next to him on the bed. "I like you reading to me just as much as Remus," he said, slightly guilty look on his face.

Sirius ruffled his hair, smiling. "Don't worry, Pronglset. I'm not going to take offence if you prefer Moony's reading. He loves reading to you far too much."

He wasn't lying; he didn't begrudge Remus his bedtime popularity one bit. For one, it was true; Remus possessed far more patience, and a deeply rooted love for books, for Sirius to ever compare to him. He knew Harry didn't think worse of him for it, and as much as he loved spending time with the boy he knew that it did Remus a lot of good to have a child look up to him like that. Merlin knew he could do with a boost of self-confidence.

That all being said, Sirius greatly enjoyed reading to Harry. Especially as the book, a very strange tale about a super-strong girl who lived alone with her horse and a monkey, proved highly entertaining. It might be due to the limited selection he had gotten from his own sadistic family, but Sirius thought that when it came down to it, muggles really _did_ write better stories.

"Now I really wanna know how it goes on," he mused once the chapter was through, reluctantly closing the book and depositing it back on the nightstand in front of the picture of James and Lily, "I think I'll join you and Moony tomorrow night and listen in."

Harry beamed. "You could just read me another chapter now," he said, looking hopeful. "This one wasn't very long."

It was tempting. Not just because Sirius really enjoyed the misadventures of the fantastic girl, but also because he rather liked cuddling with Harry. But he had seen the boy's eyelids drop once or twice, and hadn't missed the enormous yawn that Harry had tried to hide behind his stuffed stag.

"One chapter a night, that's the rule," he said, wondering if his "serious adult voice" sounded as ridiculous as it felt. "But I can stay with you until you're asleep. Your bed is very comfortable."

Harry giggled a little, and the disappointment fled his face. "Okay," he said, settling into the covers. "Good night, Sirius."

"Good night, Prongslet. Sweet dreams."

But they had only been silent for a minute or so before Harry's eyes opened once more, and his quiet voice interrupted Sirius' thoughts.

"Sirius? What's a half-breed?"

He froze, his arm around Harry tightening so suddenly that the boy flinched, but Sirius barely registered his shocked look.

"It...where did you hear that?" he finally managed, as lead filled his stomach. Suddenly he was very glad that it was him and not Remus who'd put Harry in bed.

"I..." Harry started, before stopping and staring at his bed sheets, looking guilty.

Sirius winced. "I'm not mad," he said quickly. "I'm just...where _did_ you hear that?"

It wasn't a term either him or Remus ever used, and he was pretty certain that the books Harry read weren't the kind to mention it either. And that it should come up now, not even an hour after... But then he realized where they were.

"You shouldn't listen to her," he said quickly, trying to keep the anger out of his voice for fear that Harry might think it directed at him. Judging by the wide-eyed look Harry shot him he didn't quite succeed. "She's a vile old woman who spews nonsense," Sirius quickly continued, gentler now. "She was one of the people you lived here, you know? The evil ones I told you about. Half-breed is..."

He hesitated, uncertain if he should continue. In the end he decided that honesty would be the best way, lest Harry ask Remus what a half-breed was.

"It's a very rude term for werewolves or people who are not fully human," he said slowly. "The thing is, a lot of people don't like werewolves. It's stupid, really; there's good werewolves and bad werewolves, just like with other people, but there's still some who will say mean things about them just because of what they become once a month."

"Oh," Harry made, frowning. "That's not very nice."

"No," Sirius said quickly, empathically shaking his head. "But not all people are nice, I'm afraid. And that portrait certainly isn't. Just – don't listen to her, alright? Remus' loves you, and he would never hurt you. Him being a werewolf doesn't change anything."

But whatever had Harry thinking, that hadn't been it. "Why would it change anything?" he asked, honestly puzzled.

As before in the kitchen, Sirius felt a sudden rush of affection for the boy, who was so wonderfully like James and Lily, and yet had such a vibrant personality of his own. "It doesn't," he repeated, reaching to hug Harry firmly to him. "Neither me nor Moony will ever stop loving you. I promise, Prongslet."

* * *

 **That wasn't so bad Remus, was it? Now if only Sirius could get himself to talk about his family to Harry...**


	17. Full Moon

**An update!  
**

 **HoneyBear84: Thanks! That's actually really interesting, I hadn't seen that yet.**

 **DarkNutDestroyer: I don't think Harry's reaction is surprising either (and Sirius isn't surprised, after all), but Remus is always more pessimistic when it comes to his condition, and is so used to the prejudice and hate he automatically expects it. About the James and Lily influence, it's more that they _want_ to see it. Both miss their dead friends terribly, and having Harry around to remind them of his parents means they might see things that aren't really there, or interpret a bit too much because they want to see James and Lily in him.  
**

 **Skybox: Interesting plot ideas, really. Not what I decided on, but it might have worked better...ah, well.**

 **TheAmethystWitch: I can understand your troubles! I've got the same problem, where often I really like the idea of a fic but then get put off by the bad execution. Very glad you like my story :)**

 **alix33: Somebody recognized the book! I quite enjoyed the books when I was little and my parents read them to me, but I guess they can be a bit strange.**

* * *

 **Full Moon**

Even though he was certain that nothing bad would happen, Harry still felt nervous the closer Tuesday night came.

 _Would Remus get hurt again?_

 _Would Kreacher?_

The former seemed to get more ill every hour, not even coming down for breakfast on Tuesday morning. As they ate their muesli, Sirius chatted about what Harry wanted to do today, and how they could try and build a fort out of some of the old furniture in one of the abandoned rooms later that week, but he didn't sound as enthusiastic as he usually did, and his eyes kept flickering towards the ceiling.

He spent most of the morning upstairs in the attic, probably preparing the spells that would lock Remus in.

Harry, having spent an hour of listlessly reading through his book on Greek mythology, finally decided to check on Remus.

Armed with a cup of tea and a plate full of cookies – cookies was what Dudley had always gotten when he was sick, even though his had been accompanied by a glass of milk – he tentatively knocked on the door, his book under one arm, Prongs in the other.

For a few seconds nothing happened, and with a pang he realized that Remus was probably asleep. But then he heard movement, and a quiet voice called out. "Yes?"

"It's me," he called cautiously. "Harry. I made you tea, and I... I was wondering if you could read to me. If you don't feel too sick, of course!"

Again there was a small pause, but then the door opened, and revealed a smiling Remus, lying on his bed with his wand still in his hand. "Come on in, Harry. I'd be happy to read to you."

Sitting next to Remus, listening to his calm voice, helped a lot, especially when Sirius joined them a short while later, conjuring a comfy chair for himself to they wouldn't push Remus out of his overcrowded bed.

They spent most of the day reading, Sirius taking over when Remus' voice grew hoarse, and Harry barely noticed the sky darkening outside, his worries lost in the wonderful world of Pippi Longstocking.

Only when Remus grew increasingly twitchy, and kept throwing glances to Sirius, did Harry realize how late it had gotten, and his worry returned.

Dread filled his stomach when Remus finally sat up. "It is time"

Reluctantly, Sirius nodded. "Alright. Want to eat anything before you go? There's still some soup left downstairs." He pointed towards the empty bowls of their improvised lunch.

But Remus shook his head. "No point." He slowly started to get up, visibly struggling.

Sirius quickly rose to his feet, supporting him. "Why don't you go and get your things down to the study, Harry?" he asked, smiling a smile that didn't look very convincing to Harry.

Harry nodded mechanically. It had been agreed that he and Sirius would spend the night in the study on the ground floor, as that was the furthest away from the attic they could get. Harry was secretly glad about it; having Sirius with him would make the whole ordeal a lot less scary.

Still, the idea of parting with Remus didn't agree with him at all.

"Do you really have to go?" he asked in a last, desperate attempt. "Can't you...stop it with magic?"

Remus' smile was just as strained. "Like I told you, Harry, there is no cure. I am sorry."

"You shouldn't be sorry, it's not your fault," Harry said, frowning, before dropping his gaze. "I just don't want you to get hurt."

Remus didn't answer, but Sirius quickly tousled Harry's hair. "He'll be alright, Prongslet. I promise I'll patch him up tomorrow morning, and you'll get your Uncle Moony back good as new."

Reluctantly, Harry nodded. "Okay...Good night, Remus. I hope you don't hurt yourself too badly." He carefully put his arms around Remus, and to his relief he felt himself being hugged back.

"Good night to you too, Harry. And don't worry, I won't be able to hurt you."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "That's not what he's afraid of, prat," he muttered, probably not intended for Harry to hear.

Back in his own room Harry deposited Prongs on his bed and started to gather his pyjamas and some fresh clothes for the next day, hoping the activity would get his mind off the terrifying things going on upstairs.

As it happened, it didn't, instead brining different fears to his mind.

 _Kreacher._

He had warned the Oompa-Loompa, of course, but since then he hadn't spoken to him again, never quite daring to slip upstairs. Yet he didn't feel like Kreacher had taken his warning very seriously.

Did he know what having a werewolf in the house meant? Did he know how to keep himself safe? He always seemed to be staying at one of the upper floors, closest to the attic. Would Sirius accidentally lock him in with Remus?

Abandoning his half-hearted packing, Harry came to a decision, and grabbed Prongs.

He could hear muffled voices as he slowly ascended the stairs, but they were coming from far above him, and he supposed he'd have a few uninterrupted minutes. Without wasting any more time, Harry dashed into Kreacher's corridor, knocking on the door loud enough for a grumpy-looking portrait to wake up and frown at him.

"Kreacher?"

This time he barely had to wait for the Oompa-Loompa to answer. "Master Brat wishes?"

"Don't call me – I just came to warn you about Remus again. It's the full moon tonight, remember?"

"Kreacher remembers."

"Well...Remus will be upstairs, so you should probably move to a lower floor. Sirius and I'll be in the study downstairs...you can join us if you want; I'm sure Sirius wouldn't mind."

"Kreacher is not allowed downstairs. Master forbids it."

Harry frowned, wondering once more who this malicious Master was.

"Then...you can go into my room," he suggested, his heart hammering in his chest when he noticed the voices above him stop.

He was running out of time.

"It's mine, so he can't forbid you to go in there, can he?" he reasoned. "And it's right on top of the study, so if you're in trouble, you just have to shout – or apparate, you can apparate, right? – and Sirius will come and help you."

"Harry?"

"I gotta go!"

He spun around and raced back to the stairs, just as Sirius was coming down from the floor above, a surprised look on his face.

"What are you doing here?"

Harry flinched. "I just...I wanted to see if Remus would be alright," he mumbled, feeling his face burn with shame at outright lying to his godfather. "I was worried." That wasn't a lie, he really was worried.

To his relief – and further guilty conscience – Sirius' expression softened.

"Come here, Prongslet," he said quietly, bridging the last few steps between them and lifting Harry of the ground to draw him into a firm hug. "It'll be alright," he promised, slowly moving down the remaining stairs with Harry on his arm. "It's horrible, but he's been through it before. And there's really nothing we can do right now."

Harry knew he was a little bit too big to be carried like this, but right now he didn't mind, thankfully burying his face in the comforting warmth of Sirius' robes.

"Did you get your things ready?"

Harry nodded quietly, not looking up, and felt himself being carried into his room. There was a flicker of movement and a whispered word, and he heard the ruffling of cloth. As he was carried down to the ground floor he could see his pyjamas floating down the stairs after them, dancing around like a ghost in an invisible breeze. It looked rather funny, and it lifted the dread he felt somewhat.

 _It'll be okay. Remus will be alright, Kreacher will be safe, and Padfoot will keep away the nightmares._

..-

The boy had long fallen asleep, curled into the soft belly of the big black dog, the worried frown disappeared from his peacefully slumbering face. Yet the dog's eyes were still opened, grey orbs reflecting the dim street lights filtering through the curtains. He shifted his front paw, hugging Harry closer to himself, and let out a low sigh.

It wasn't very comfortable, squashed together on the couch, his long limbs in constant danger of slipping off, but he knew Harry liked sleeping here, and there was no way he would let the boy sleep on his own tonight.

So he lay silently, his ears twitching whenever there was a noise or other, the house sounding so different, so much louder, from a dog's perspective. Yet it wasn't the noises, or even his uncomfortable position that kept him up, but an unwillingness to go to sleep.

He knew there was no point in staying awake, knew that the wards would hold. And even if they didn't, a marauding werewolf would wake him up in time to save Harry.

But it felt wrong to go to sleep, knowing that just a few floors above him his best – and currently only – friend was ripping himself apart.

Despite what they had told Harry, and despite what Remus had said to him, Sirius knew that tonight would be worse than usual.

Remus had told them back in school how the wolf had always been able to smell the humans in the castle and in Hogsmeade, the dozens of warm bodies, _prey_ , just out of his reach. It had driven him into a mad fury, knowing they were there and not being able to get to them.

Sirius knew that it would not be any better tonight.

Wizards – humans in general – didn't depend on their sense of smell much – they didn't actually _have_ one, compared to the canine perspective – meaning that there weren't a lot of spells that focused on blocking them. Sounds, lights, of course. But scents...

 _He_ could smell Remus, could smell the wolf so close to him. It didn't frighten the dog – the wolf was his pack mate, after all, and old friend who he longed to meet again – but the man inside him was deeply worried, especially once the scent of wolf mingled with that of blood.

Everything in him screamed to go up there, to save his friend from himself, from the monster that had overpowered him. But he knew that he couldn't. Back at school, nothing would have kept him from helping one of his friends, be it rules, laws or even Death Eaters. But now there was something that counted more than friendship.

 _Harry. You would kill your best friend to save him._

It frightened him, really. Loyalty to his friends was the one thing he had held true above everything else his whole life. And yet he hadn't just said that to convince Remus, he had _meant_ it. He would kill the werewolf should he endanger Harry.

 _Would James have done the same? Would Lily have?_

He knew the answer.

His eyes wandered outside, towards the flickering street lights out on Grimmauld Place. The outside...had Dumbledore known what it would mean, sealing them in?

He must've – there was no way Remus' condition had simply slipped his mind, or that he had neglected to check the lunar calendar.

Had he hoped they would give in out of fear? Remus nearly had, _would have_ if Sirius hadn't managed to stop him. Had that been Dumbledore's plan? Blackmail them into submitting?

 _Probably._

He had long lost the blind faith he had once had in the headmaster.

During the war, it had been nothing but an uncomfortable inkling. Dumbledore was their leader, their hope, the only thing keeping them from collapsing completely in the face of overwhelming darkness. But it had also been clear that defeating Voldemort had been his ultimate goal, a goal he would do anything to achieve.

They had all had their limits, things they fought for, things that were more important to them than victory. For Sirius it had been his friends, James and Lily had fought for their future, for Harry to grow up safely. Remus had fought against the monster in himself, desperately trying to escape its shadow, proving that his life was not dictated by the evil that Greyback had put in him. And Peter... back then, Sirius had thought he was fighting for the same reason he was, to help his friends, make good on the promise they had given each other in first year.

 _Turns out the only thing he was fighting for was his own life._

Dumbledore, however...where Sirius would rather have seen Voldemort triumph than lose James, Dumbledore had no such qualms. He would send them into fight after fight, knowing it would likely mean their death, accepting it with the cool calculation of a general.

Not because he didn't care – Sirius had seen tears in those blue eyes often enough; he knew the headmaster grieved just as much as the rest of them for every fallen comrade – but because he had known that it was necessary.

And maybe he had been right – the war _had_ been won, if at terrible cost, the wizarding world had not fallen.

It wasn't that Sirius blamed Dumbledore for his actions, or for the way he had led them. If Voldemort were to return tomorrow, and if he was in any position to do so, Sirius would re-join the Order without a second thought.

 _But would you trust him with Harry?_

He himself wasn't completely sure why he so vehemently opposed Remus' idea of contacting Dumbledore, of making their peace with the Order. It was obvious that Dumbledore did believe in his innocence, and despite what he had told Remus, Sirius did not think that the headmaster had lied in his Patronus. He did want to help them.

But there hadn't been anything about Harry in that message, and Sirius couldn't shake the feeling that any deal with Dumbledore probably entailed the boy's return to Privet Drive.

The dog let out an involuntary little grow at that thought.

 _Over my dead body. I promised him he would never have to go there again, and I intent to keep that promise._

Yet he couldn't help but wonder _why_.

Dumbledore rarely did anything without careful consideration – except for his speeches at the welcoming feast, maybe – and it was hard to believe he had sent Harry to his Aunt and Uncle simply out of convenience.

There would have been dozens of magical families who would've happily taken him in – Remus being the first choice, even though he probably would have refused because of his condition – and even if he had meant to shield Harry from the fame and attention – something that Sirius couldn't help but agree with – he could've found a muggle family who wouldn't lock him up in a cupboard and treat him with all the warmth one would give a yeast infection.

Yet he had brought Harry to Privet Drive.

It hadn't been to harm Harry, obviously, as Sirius knew that even if Dumbledore didn't care for Harry personally – which seemed unlikely, given how fond he had been of James and Lily – the headmaster would never intentionally harm any child just for the sake of it.

 _If not to harm him, maybe it was to protect him?_

But from whom? Granted, there had still been a lot of Death Eaters walking free in the aftermath of the war, as the case of the Longbottoms proved all-too terribly, and even now there were probably those who longed for Voldemort's return, and would jump at the chance to get rid of the boy who had brought about his downfall.

 _Well, he's a lot safer in here than in the hands of those sodding muggles. The way they just handed him over to us, they'd probably have invited the Death Eaters in for tea had they told him they planned on murdering Harry._

Harry was safe here. Dumbledore obviously had no way to get in, otherwise he'd already be standing on their doorway, and the ministry was just as clueless. Even if there were Death Eaters planning to kill Harry, they had no chance to even get close to him.

 _We're safe. We'll always be safe here._

And yet the uneasiness did not leave him, sticking to his fur like fleas, nesting in the darkness inside him.

 _What if we are wrong, and Dumbledore is right? What if we have doomed Harry by taking him away?_

* * *

 **Sorry about all the angst, but this was never gonna be a happy chapter.  
**

 **I've finished the next one but it might still be a while before I post it, due to my rather irregular schedule right now. It shouldn't take too long, though!**


	18. When My Fist Clenches

**Firstly, apologies for not updating for so long. As I said in my other story, things were a bit busy with uni, and I just couldn't bring myself to proof-read and post the chapters I had (because I'm actually almost done writing this)  
**

 **Huge thanks to all of you who reviewed, this story actually passed 200 reviews! :D You guys are awesome! :)**

 **harryislife: Thanks! That's very much what I was going for. I think it is hard to strike the right balance when it comes to Dumbledore, especially as there are some rather strong opinions out here. Painting him just black or white just wouldn't do his character justice.**

 **Skybox: Thank you! I really like those moral dilemmas about leaders having to make hard choices - and I tend to get a bit carried away philosophizing about it - so I'm glad to know at least some people aren't bored by my ramblings :D**

 **BadAZKenB: I did think about that, yeah, but instead went for the way I portray it here for plot reasons. I think it's not completely unjustified, as we see Death Eaters lurking outside Grimmauld Place in DH, when the Fidelius Charm is still (partly) active. Snape can't have told them about it, because in that case they could just go in an search the place, but they have to know it is there, or standing watch wouldn't make sense. I know that's rather feeble, and there's contradicting information in other parts of the books, but it's be the version I'll be working with. I hope you'll forgive my sloppiness!**

 **Guest: I usually updated once or twice a week, but evidently this has been broken. I am however very much determined to get back to one chapter a week, so fingers crossed ;)**

 **This chapter was a really hard chapter to write, as it goes rather dark towards the end. I apologize in advance.  
**

* * *

 **When my fist clenches**

When Harry awoke the next morning, the sofa next to him was empty, and for a moment panic flooded him. But then there was the creaking noise of the door opening, and when he turned his head he saw Sirius walking in, already dressed in fresh clothes and with a breakfast tray in his hands.

He was smiling, though it looked a little strained. "Morning, Prongslet. Thought we might have breakfast in here today, what do you say?"

Harry slowly sat up. "What about Remus?" he asked anxiously. "Is he alright?"

For a moment the cheerful smile seemed to falter, and Harry's stomach plummeted, but then it returned, and his godfather looked just as cheerful as he had before. "Bit roughed up, but nothing bad. I got him down and put him to bed. He's fine."

Relief flooded Harry, and the pressure on his chest lifted somewhat. "Can I see him?"

Sirius didn't answer at first, stopping to set down his tray with unusual care. "Better wait a bit," he finally said, turning around to hand Harry a glass of orange juice. "He's sleeping now, and it's best we don't wake him up."

Immediately, Harry felt guilty. "Sorry! I didn't...I just wanted to make sure he's okay," he muttered dejectedly.

"And that's very kind of you, Prongslet," Sirius said, sitting down beside him and ruffling his hair. "But we'll let him sleep for now, alright? You can visit him later, maybe make him a cup of tea. I'm sure he'd like that."

Harry nodded eagerly, feeling the worry leave him for the first time in days. Remus was okay. They were all okay. They –

 _Kreacher._

Harry nearly dropped his slice of toast when the Oompa-Loompa returned to his mind. Was he...

 _He must be. Sirius would have mentioned if there had been an accident last night._

But what if he didn't know? What if Kreacher hadn't listened to Harry, and had gone back upstairs? He seemed to have no problem with locking spells; maybe he could get through the wards as well? An image came into his mind, of the Oompa-Loompa lying in some dark corner, bleeding, dying...

"I need to do some cleaning," Sirius suddenly spoke, and Harry nearly jumped, having almost forgotten he was there. "Would you be okay on your own for a while? Remus left you some homework, didn't he? I won't be long, just an hour or so."

Harry was so relieved he didn't even stop to think about what sort of cleaning Sirius meant, too focused on the opportunity to check on Kreacher. So he simply nodded, wolfing down his breakfast as fast as he could and running upstairs as soon as he was finished.

His first idea was to race directly to Kreacher's room, but he could hear Sirius coming up the stairs behind him and decided that it would be safer to go to his room first, and wait for his godfather to go downstairs again.

His room looked just as he had left it the night before, with no indication that Kreacher had been here. Yet when Harry deposited his pyjamas on his bed he found something lying on his pillow, something small and silver.

Picking it up he realized it was metal, a button of some sorts. It looked very old yet had obviously been taken care of well. It shone in the light, and Harry could recognize a tiny snake engraved in it.

He wondered where it came from; he had never seen it before. It looked expensive, not like it had come from the sort of clothes that Sirius or Remus wore. Maybe it was left over from the people who had lived here before? But it seemed unlikely that it had been here the whole time; surely Harry would have noticed.

Come to think of it, it seemed rather obvious that somebody had placed it on his pillow on purpose. Maybe...maybe Kreacher had put it there? As a sort of gift? It did look similar to the sort of things that he kept in his nest.

Maybe it was his way of saying thank you to Harry for allowing him to stay here?

 _That means he was here last night. And that he is safe._

Harry felt a smile creep onto his face. Everything was alright. Remus was fine, Sirius was fine and Kreacher was fine. He could try to visit Kreacher later, and when Remus would wake up Harry would make him a cup of tea, and maybe they could read together again.

Whistling, he set about doing his homework.

* * *

Sirius was worried.

Remus had been in a terrible state that morning, and despite his best efforts, his situation had improved little over the day. He had been unconscious when Sirius came to free him that morning, and there had been a very nasty gash at his leg. After seeing the amount of blood pooled around it, Sirius had for a terrible moment thought the werewolf was dead.

But there had still been breathing, if very shallow, and somehow he had managed to get Remus down the stairs and into his bed. With the help of dittany – the supply of which was dwindling worryingly – he had seen to most of the other wounds, yet the leg had not stopped bleeding until about lunch time, when Remus had finally woken.

"P-Padfoot?"

Relief flooded Sirius, immediately followed by concern when Remus tried to sit up. "Wow, careful there. You did quite a number on your leg. How are you feeling?"

"Trampled by at least a hippogriff, more likely a dragon," Remus mumbled, his head falling back onto the pillow with a pained grunt. "What time is it? How's Harry?"

"Half past twelve. And he's fine; he's in his room doing homework. Told him you were sleeping and that he could come and visit you later."

"Good," Remus said, his eyes already closing. "Don't let him come in here."

"Wasn't going to. Are you hungry? Got some soup downstairs that I was going to warm up for us."

But Remus didn't answer, and Sirius realized he had already fallen asleep once more. He cast a worried glance at the gash on his leg. To his relief, no fresh blood was seeping through the bandages. There was just one bottle of blood replenishing potion left, and even though they had a basic supply of potion ingredients he had neither the time nor the skills to make more. If the wound hadn't closed, Remus would probably have bled to death. Sirius shuddered at the thought.

Even so the werewolf looked ghostly pale, and he knew he would have to find another excuse for Harry to keep the boy out of Remus' bedroom. If he saw him in this state, Harry would surely get frightened again, and there had been more than enough of that already.

With a sigh, he rose to his feet, sloppily cleaning up the blood from the sheets – he had no illusions; they were ruined. But luckily there was an ample supply of bed sheets in this house, some of which even were curse-free.

Carefully closing the door behind himself and putting a silencing spell on it for good measure he went over to his godson's door. "Harry? Up for some lunch?"

"Coming!" The door opened and Harry appeared, an ink splotch on his forehead and a bright grin on his face. "I'm almost done with maths!" He announced proudly, following Sirius down the stairs in excited leaps. "Is Remus up now?"

Sirius winced, fighting to keep the smile on his face. "I just checked on him, and he was still sleeping. Maybe give him a bit more rest, shall we?" Harry's grin faltered a little, and not wanting him to worry again Sirius quickly added: "How about we try and build the cheese tower again after lunch? We still haven't managed to reach the ceiling."

Thankfully that worked, and indeed kept Harry busy almost the entire afternoon. Sirius tried to be cheerful for Harry's sake – and building a shaky tower out of old building blocks and, once they had run out, anything else they found in the study, was rather fun – but his mind kept wandering to Remus. He slipped out a few times to check on the werewolf, yet there was little change. He was still sleeping – or unconscious; Sirius wasn't certain - but towards the evening a mild fever broke out, growing stronger with alarming speed.

By the time it got dark outside, however, Harry was clearly getting suspicious when Sirius told him that Remus was still asleep.

"Is he okay? He didn't sleep this long last time..."

"It varies. He just needs some more rest this time."

"But won't he get hungry?"

Sirius forced a smile. "I'll put some food next to his bed," he promised. "That way he can eat as soon as he wakes up."

"Okay," Harry made, looking unconvinced. "Good night, Sirius."

Sirius flinched at the dejected look on Harry's face. "Don't you want me to read to you before bed?"

But Harry merely shook his head, pulling the blankets further under his chin. "It's okay. I don't want Remus to miss anything."

"That's...that's very nice of you, Prongslet," Sirius managed, hoping his voice didn't sound too choked. "We'll read two chapters tomorrow to make up for it. Sleep tight, little one."

After making sure the door to Harry's room was closed he walked over to check on Remus. The fever was still raging, though at least it hadn't increased any further. Sirius knew it was nothing unusual, that it often accompanied rough transformations, but he still felt relief at that. Much experience as he had with bandaging up combat wounds, when it came to actual healing he was rather useless.

"Don't you dare die on me, wolf," he muttered, reluctantly rising back to his feet when it became apparent that there was nothing more he could do right now. "Or I'll burn all your precious books. And your Genesis albums." When there was no reaction to his threat he sighed and left the room, slowly wandering back downstairs.

He was unsure what to do with his time. He felt like listening to music, but since he neither wanted to wake up Harry nor cast a silencing spell, in case the boy needed something, anything loud was out of the question. In the end, he settled for one of Remus' Dire Straits records. He hadn't listened to them much – whenever James and he had been there, "proper" Rock had usually won out – but Lily had been a fan as well, and he remembered listening to it in their home quite a bit after they had gotten married.

The soft guitar brought back memories, memories of nights spent laughing despite the war. It had been a dark time, yet they had found light in each other's company, the cheerful comfort of the five of them – and, soon, the promise of a sixth one.

"Well, that's depressing," he muttered to himself, sinking back onto the couch and grabbing the newspaper from the day before. Looking at the date, he groaned. _Monday, 30_ _th_ _of May._ Which meant that today was the 31st...

"Oh, sweet Merlin."

* * *

" _But she wanted a June wedding!"_

" _Oh, for the love of Merlin. It's_ one day _!"_

" _Yeah...but it's Lily. She's scary. Maybe we should try somewhere else."_

" _Shut up, Wormy. Look, it's a nice place; there's tons of trees and shrubbery that will be blossoming – chicks dig that flowery shit – and it's far away from everywhere so we won't have to worry about muggles. Just sign it."_

 _James still seemed unconvinced, and turned to Remus, who'd been silent so far. "What do you think? How pissed will she be?"_

 _The werewolf shrugged, looking around awkwardly. Sirius knew he felt everything but comfortable about the posh decor around them. "I don't think she'll mind the date. And Padfoot's right, this is a good place. Should be easy to secure."_

 _Sirius rolled his eyes. "Pretty sure Voldy has better stuff to do than crash a wedding. But I'll take it. Two to one, Prongs. Sign the bloody paper and let's get out of here. I don't trust that valet guy with my bike."_

 _After two more seconds, James finally relented, a slow smile spreading on his face. "It_ does _look beautiful," he said thoughtfully, looking around the lawn that surrounded the tiny stone church. Then a grin came onto a face, the sheepish sort that Sirius had seen so often on him since Lily had finally agreed to go out with him._

" _I'm gonna get married in three months," he said, looking rather dumbfounded at his luck. "Lily's gonna marry me!"_

* * *

Sirius rose to his feet, slowly walking over to the cabinet where he had stored the liquor behind some ancient books, safely out of Harry's reach. He had promised himself not to drink with Harry close by, but he felt like today he was allowed an exception.

Harry was probably asleep by now, safe, happy. And Sirius would only have one glass, little enough so that he could still be there for Harry in case he had any nightmares.

Pouring himself a generous measure he sat back down again. _Brothers in Arms_ played in the background. Sirius winced, helplessly letting the memories rush over him.

* * *

" _You know, if you played your cards right you could totally hit that. She keeps looking over to you."_

 _Remus did not seem pleased at that. "Not really why we're here, is it?" he asked, chagrined._

" _Of course it is! What else are weddings for?"_

" _I'm not going to answer that. Did you at least make sure everything is ready? Lily'll be here in an hour. Do you have the rings?"_

 _Sirius rolled his eyes, patting his breast pocket. "I'm not completely-" And felt nothing._

Fuck.

 _Remus stared at him, obviously reading his sudden silence correctly. "You didn't-"_

" _They must've fallen out while I was flying here!" Sirius cried, feeling panic flood through him. Only last week Lily had hexed him for sleeping with the witch who was supposed to supply the cake – and who, after a rather appalling encounter the next morning, had since refused to have anything to do with any of them ever again – and Sirius was still not certain if his right ear had grown back fully. He could only imagine what she would do to him if she found out he had lost their wedding rings._

" _Get Peter!" he commanded, already on his way to the field where he had parked his bike. "And find some brooms. We'll have to go look for them!"_

 _Remus groaned. "Is it too late to talk to that girl instead?" he muttered, looking over the Potter cousin who had indeed been eyeing him._

" _Stop being so selfish, Moony! We're here for a wedding, not to chat up girls!"_

* * *

Sirius chuckled at the memory. It had taken them almost an hour of scouring the countryside to find the rings – and after that day, neither of them ever had trouble with the summoning charm ever again, having cast it nonstop for ages – but they had managed to get back to the church in time.

The box had a few smudges of dirt on them, but luckily James and Lily were so besotted with each other that they probably wouldn't have noticed if he had given them plastic toy rings out of a muggle happy meal.

Peter's hastily borrowed dress robes – his own had been beyond salvaging after he had fallen into a muddy pond, and the ones they had found were several numbers too large – had raised a few more eyebrows, but luckily he had never been known for his style and nobody had asked after it.

It had been a great day. Warm, sunny, with birdsong and fluttering butterflies directly out of a soppy muggle film, and for a few blissful hours they had forgotten the war raging around them, and the horrors that lay beyond the little stone church.

It hadn't been his own wedding – he had never planned on having one, anyway – but to Sirius it still was one of the happiest days in his memory, topped only by Harry's birth.

Looking at James and Lily he had for the first time in months seen a future full of promise. Not the ever darkening prospects of Voldemort taking over, of people dying faster and faster, but a glimpse of what could be – _would_ be – once the war was over.

The week after he and Peter had almost been killed on a mission when a couple of Death Eaters ambushed them. A month later, Horatio Finley, who had been a year below them at Hogwarts and joined the Order just a day prior, had been hit by a killing curse, and in November Dragon Pox had broken out in Euphemia and Fleamont Potter again, now for the final time. But for just one day, they had been happy.

Watching James carefully slide the thin gold band on Lily's finger, the dopey grin on his face of a man who could barely believe his luck, Sirius had felt certain that that future would be theirs.

 _It'll be alright._

Except it hadn't.

He filled himself another glass, barely noticing he did so.

 _And though we were hurt so bad_

 _In the fear and alarm_

 _You did not desert me_

 _My brothers in arms_

He chuckled hollowly at the lyrics, draining his glass.

"Yeah right."

Of course they had deserted them.

James...died so bravely, fighting till the last moment. But died nevertheless, leaving Sirius with a hole in his chest that would never be filled.

Peter ...the vile little rat, who should've drowned in the pond that day. Oh how he wished to know where he was now, how he wished to drain every last drop of life from him, make him cry, make him beg, make him _sorry_ for what he had done.

And Remus...

 _He betrayed you, too. Did he even try to find out the truth about what happened? Did he even visit you once?_

He tried to fend off the thoughts.

 _He's there now. He believed me, he helped me. He's bleeding to death up there because he would not leave me._

 _And he deserves it. He let you rot in hell for six years, his own brother. He was always a spineless coward, always the teacher's pet. Of course he didn't protest when Crouch sent you off, of course he didn't try to get you a fair trial. Even now he wrote to Dumbledore behind your back. He's probably been writing him more letters every week..._

 _No. He didn't know. He couldn't-_

 _He could've checked. Would you have come to see him, if your roles had been reversed?_

Sirius fell silent. He knew the answer.

Of course he would've gone to see Moony. He had suspected him of being the traitor – and he was not proud of that – but that didn't mean that he wouldn't at least have tried to talk to him, if only to find out his motives. To make sure that it really had been him.

The voice in his head was gloating at him in triumph.

 _Remus didn't come. He didn't care._

Feeling the anger rising in himself Sirius quickly poured himself another glass.

A part of him knew that it was wrong drinking so much, that he was going way past the limit he had set himself. But that part was steadily drowned out as warm fuzziness engulfed him, dulling the pain that filled his mind.

 _We're fools to make war_

 _On our brothers in arms_

Slowly, the music faded away, until the crackling of the fire was the only sound in the gloomy study.

It was strange, really, Sirius mused as he looked around, how the room could look so different at night. During the day, with Harry swirling around it like a personified ray of sun – he really _was_ pissed if that was the sort of imagery his mind came up with – it felt like home, like the place where he belonged.

But now that the laughter had died down all the darkness returned. The blocks scattered on the floor weren't a cheese tower, but Regulus' old toys, loaded with so many memories it hurt to even look at them.

The pictures they had put up on the wall weren't happy memories, but attempts to cover the unnaturally light patches of wall where the portraits of his ancestors had hung. And the desk that stood in one corner wasn't an improvised school desk but his father's. Even looking at it Sirius could feel the dread and disgust he had felt all those times he had been called in here, to be admonished by a stern Orion Black for one or the other crime against etiquette.

He drank another glass, fighting to keep the demons of his past at bay. It didn't work as well as having Harry around did.

Realizing the bottle was empty he sighed, and slowly rose to his feet. The ground swayed a little – another stupid curse by his ancestors? He snorted in contempt, and shot an _Incendio_ at the nearest rug, smiling in grim satisfaction as the once expensive Persian turned into ash.

 _I can't wait to find a new home to live. It'll be the sweetest day of my life, sending this whole place to hell._

Slowly he made his way up the stairs, shooting a hateful glare in the direction of his mother's portrait as he passed it. _Just you wait, bitch. You'll be the first to burn._

Reaching the first floor he had to lean on the wall for a bit, trying to regain his balance. _Bloody spells._

That's when he noticed that Harry's door was opened a crack. Sirius frowned, almost certain he had closed it earlier. Or was he wrong? His brain felt rather fuzzy; it was difficult to remember.

 _Better check on him, just to make sure._

Slowly, he walked over to the door, carefully poking his head inside.

At first he could see nothing, as the curtains had been firmly closed. But then his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he could make out the mop of black hair, the sheets rising rhythmically with peaceful breathing. He was just about to retreat when something else caught his eye. Movement, at the far side of the room. A small shape, crouched over the school bag that lay abandoned below the window. Long fingers, large ears...

" _You!_ "

Sirius felt rage surge through him, as the anger that he had struggled to keep under control all evening finally broke through.

"You slimey little git!" he hissed, his voice so full of fury that he barely managed to keep it down as he rushed over to the house-elf.

"I _told_ you to stay out of here!"

Kreacher yelped in surprise, spinning around and ducking away from the approaching wizard, fear and hate in his enormous eyes. "Kreacher only-"

" _Stay away from my godson!_ " Sirius hissed, drawing his wand. He dreaded to think how long the house-elf had been in here, and what he had planned to do. Destroy Harry's belongings, as he had done so often to Sirius back when he was still a child? Or something even darker – had he tried to plant some cursed object in Harry's things, hoping to hurt him?

"The brat-"

"DON'T CALL HIM THAT!" Sirius roared, raising his wand. He hadn't planned to actually harm Kreacher – give him a kick, maybe – but now, hearing that word – a word that he had heard so often during his own childhood – his fury finally boiled over.

" _Expu-_ "

"No!"

Sirius froze, mid-movement, as suddenly found himself staring into green eyes, huge with fear and confusion as Harry looked at his godfather's wand, pointed directly at his chest.

* * *

 **Not Sirius' greatest hour...**

 **Do I still get a review? :)**


	19. Family Breeds Contempt

**Decided to update a bit sooner given the horrid state I left our friends in...**

 **alix33: "Cheese tower" doesn't actually involve cheese, sorry to disappoint ;) It's what my Dad used to build with me and my sister when we were little, using all our Duplo (that big lego; not sure if the English name's the same) bricks to try and get as high as possible without it crashing. To make them reach further it had to have lots of holes, which is where the name came from. Probably not a general concept, but I figured it would work even better if you could actually use magic.**

 **katmom: Is Andromeda a healer in Canon? I've read it a lot on here, but I couldn't find any 'official' information.**

 **CaseLC: Thanks! I quite enjoy writing the Marauders, so I might do more flashbacks in the future...**

 **harryislife: Glad you think it was realisitc! :) (Fortunately) I never had any real life experience with mental trauma or abusive drinking, which is why I wasn't sure if I had portrayed it convincingly.**

 **LunaReader6127: I think there's a difference between Kreacher and the Dursleys, actually. House-elves are not just physically bound to their family, but also sort of brainwashed to believe whatever they think. Whereas the Dursleys have free will and mind, and they treat Harry the way they did out of pure spite and hatred. (Or Vernon and Petunia do. I still think that Dudley's kind of a victim too, with parents like that)**

 **Amber: Thanks! :) I sure am. This story is, as I mentioned, nearly over, but I've got plenty ideas for follow-ups, so don't worry ;)**

 **Boxum of Dark Magic: Harry sort of threw himself in front of Kreacher to shield him from Sirius, that's why the wand's pointed at him. (This might be AU, but don't think that'll keep Harry from trying to save anyone and anything at any opportunity)**

 **Also thanks to all the other reviewrs; twenty reviews for the last chapter alone...you're incredible! :D**

* * *

 **Family Breeds Contempt**

„No!"

Harry stared in horror at the man standing in front of him. He barely recognized his godfather. The wizard's face was contorted in a grimace of hatred, his long black hair flying about his face in a tangled mess, unlike the usual groomed appearance, and his eyes...his eyes looked like that of a madman, bloodshot and red-rimmed, his pupils dilated and full of so much fury that he looked barely human.

For the first time since he had known him, Harry felt genuinely afraid of Sirius.

But he stayed where he was, even when every fibre in his body wanted to run and hide, to crawl under his covers and hope that everything was just a terrible nightmare. Behind him Kreacher was cowering below his desk, probably just as afraid as Harry was.

"Don't hurt him, please!" he cried, feeling tears rush into his eyes.

Sirius' wand dropped immediately, and some of the madness fled his eyes. But his anger stayed. "Get away from him, Harry," he pressed through gritted teeth, "Who knows what he's doing here."

Harry's heart pounded so madly that it threatened to burst his chest, but he stayed where he was. "No!" he protested, spreading his arms to shield Kreacher from his godfather. "He's my friend! I allowed him to be in here!"

He was surprised by his own courage, and so, apparently was Sirius, for his stance faltered.

"He... _what_!? Harry, do you know what he is? He's a filthy little git, who likes nothing more than hurting people. He-"

"He didn't hurt me!" Harry protested. "His name's Kreacher, and he's held captive by some evil Master! He makes him hide, and hurt himself, and he has to live in a cupboard!"

Sirius stumbled backwards, all his anger fled from his face. He looked dreadfully pale now.

Worried, Harry quickly continued: "And he helped me. He...he helped me find out that you lived here, you and your family."

He paused, worried how Sirius would take this. Would he get angry again? Would he attack Harry for real this time? But his godfather only went paler, swaying on his feet now and grabbing Harry's bedpost to support himself.

"You- know?" he finally managed, sounding as if he was about to be sick.

Still rather frightened, and not daring to go over and help Sirius, Harry nodded. "Yes, I...I saw your room. And then I checked the tapestry in the drawing room, and found your name on it, and then I read the paper to find out your last name, and it's Black, and...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone up there, but I was so curious, and I didn't know why you wouldn't tell me, and...please don't send me back to the Dursleys! I promise I won't do it again, I won't even leave my room!"

Panic gripped him. Sirius had looked so angry, so furious...would he throw Harry out? Would he even bother bringing him back to the Dursleys, or would he just leave him to the pirate? Harry couldn't decide which would be worse.

Sirius didn't answer immediately, his face now looking distinctly greyish.

"I can move into the cupboard if you want me to. I will be really quiet, and I won't come out!"

Finally, Sirius moved, his wand clattering to the floor as he let himself fall heavily on Harry's bed, burying his face in his hands. "You won't have to leave, Harry. I'm not mad at you," he muttered quietly, barely discernible through his trembling fingers.

Harry breathed with relief, though it was a slim one. Sirius still looked shaken – whether scared, angry or sad, Harry couldn't decide, but it was clear that something was horribly wrong.

For short while – it couldn't be more than a few minutes, though to Harry it felt like hours – his godfather was silent. Then he finally lifted his head from his hands and spoke, fixating the floor in front of him. "Go upstairs, Kreacher."

His voice was quiet and subdued, like that of a man who had accepted a horrible fate. And while Harry was still wondering what it all meant, there was an answer behind him. And answer that let his blood run cold.

"As Master wishes."

For a few seconds, there was silence, as Harry stared at the spot where the Oompa-Loompa had vanished. His mind struggled to comprehend what had just happened, struggled to acknowledge the words he had heard.

 _No. It can't be,_ he _can't be..._

"Harry, I-" Sirius began, his voice hoarse, a hint of desperation in it.

But Harry barely noticed. "You-" He stared at his godfather, this stranger that he had thought he knew. But he had been wrong. How could this man be the same...

Unable to bear his presence any longer Harry ran from the room, not caring where his feet led him, his only wish to get away as fast as possible, away from the person he did not know anymore.

* * *

"Harry?"

There was no answer.

Sirius sighed, resting his head against the dark wooden door and wondering how to proceed.

It had to be past ten in the morning already, but there had been no sign of the boy so far. He had fled to the study last night after the horrifying incident and Sirius, too abhorred and ashamed by what had happened, hadn't dared follow him, settling for waiting in the hallway instead, his mind buzzing with regret and self-hatred.

The fear that had shown in Harry's eyes...

 _You raised your wand against him. You threatened him, you almost_ cursed _him..._

He shuddered at the idea of what James would have to say about that.

 _And now he's in there, scared and confused, and he'll see the empty bottle, and the burnt carpet..._

What would Harry think of him? Would he even want to see him again?

He desperately wished for Remus to be awake, healthy. Remus had always been better at dealing with things like these; Remus surely would know what to do.

The look on his face as Harry had realized who Kreacher's Master was...

Could it be true? Could he really have struck up a friendship with that vile creature?

Thinking back to the lurking, malicious house-elf from his childhood it seemed hard to believe. But then, Regulus had always been close to Kreacher, and had never received any of the subversive hostility Sirius had been met with.

But why on earth would Kreacher feel loyal to Harry? He wasn't a pureblood, as Kreacher had to know, and he certainly didn't express any pureblood views. And given his slavish devotion to Bellatrix and the whole Death Eater branch of the Black family, it seemed more than a little odd for Kreacher to feel anything but contempt for the boy who had ended Voldemort's reign.

 _It doesn't matter. What matters is that Harry fears you, and that he thinks you are some sort of monster. For which you gave him more than enough reason._

He sighed, rubbing his throbbing head with his free hand. The alcohol had worn off, but the lack of sleep had not helped with a raging headache.

 _Guess I deserve it._

"Harry?" he tried again, without much hope. "I...I understand if you don't want to talk to me. But you must be hungry. I made you some breakfast; I can leave it in front of the door if you'd rather not come out while I'm here." There was still now reply, so he simply sighed again and gently levitated the tray towards the ground. "I'll check up on Remus for a while, okay? Don't worry; I'm not trying to trick you."

Not that he would have needed to – it would have been the simplest thing in the world to magically unlock the door and force Harry to face him. But he didn't want to, having already betrayed the boy's trust too much. So he simply turned around and slowly walked upstairs, forcing himself to look ahead even when he heard the door open behind him.

 _At least he won't starve himself._

It was a small comfort, but all that he could hope for right now.

* * *

Remus was still lying motionless when Sirius entered the dimly lit room, but some colour had returned to his face. He was still deathly pale, but at least he didn't look like a corpse anymore, and his breathing was sounding significantly less laboured.

Sirius let himself fall into the chair next to the bed, his chin resting on his hands.

"I fucked up, Moony," he muttered quietly. "I fucked up good this time."

Predictably, there was no answer, but he still kept talking. It helped, somehow.

"I guess you were right. I should have told him about the house earlier. And about Kreacher...He said he knows about the Blacks. But who knows what it is that Kreacher told him... How did I not notice it? Am I that bad a guardian?"

Judging by what had happened earlier, the answer was pretty clear.

He sighed once more, burying his face in his hands. "I don't know what to do, Moony," he winced, feeling desperation wash over him. "I don't know how to fix this."

For the first time since he had escaped Azkaban, he felt truly helpless. Up until now, there had always been some sort of plan, a way forward, be it ever so difficult. He had faced obstacles, but he had always now which direction to go, how to move past them. Now, however...

Would Harry be afraid of him for the rest of his life? Would he still trust Remus, even? And, more importantly, would Remus still be there?

"Is Remus okay?"

Sirius froze. At first, he didn't even dare turn around, too frightened that maybe he had just imagined the voice. But when he finally did, it really was Harry standing in the doorway, his clothes rumpled, his face blotchy, and a scared and worried look in his eyes.

Sirius felt relieve wash through him at the sight, be it ever so pitiful. Then he remembered that Harry had asked a question.

 _He's fine; he's just sleeping._

The lie was on his tongue already, but he stopped himself at the last moment.

 _You've lied to him enough. Lying is what got you into this mess._

"I-I don't know," he finally managed. Harry's face grew paler, but Sirius forced himself to go on. "He lost a lot of blood, and he hasn't woken up yet. There was a fever, too, but that's gone now. I don't know what's wrong with him."

Harry took a hesitant step forward, clutching his stuffed deer. "But...but you're a wizard. Can't you make him better like you did with my knee?"

Sirius winced at the confusion and fear in the boy's voice. He started to wonder if honesty had been the wrong way to go, but it was too late now.

"Werewolf wounds are different," he explained, almost grateful that they were talking at all, despite the horrible topic. "They are cursed, which means that they heal badly. That's why Remus has so many scars. I did what I could – there's a potion that helps against blood loss – but I'm no trained healer. There's not really anything else I can do."

"Oh." Harry's gaze drifted across the sleeping werewolf. There was a thoughtful frown on his forehead, but apart from that his expression was unreadable.

For a while they were silent, Harry watching Remus while Sirius watched Harry. He wondered if he should say something, if he should try to explain what had happened the night before, but he couldn't bring himself to do so for fear of scaring Harry away again.

 _Some Gryffindor you are._

In the end, it was Harry who broke the silence.

"Why do you make Kreacher live upstairs?" His eyes never left the bed, but his posture visibly tensed.

Sirius swallowed. "I- I am sorry for what happened, Harry," he managed, wondering if it was the hangover that made his voice so scratchy. "And for lying to you."

Harry didn't answer, so he was forced to go on. "This house...it did belong to my family, and I did grow up here. But I hated it. The portrait down in the hallway – that's my mother. The Blacks were purebloods, and not the nice kind like your Dad's family. They thought they were better than muggles or muggleborns – like your Mum – and they thought that wizards should rule."

For the first time, Harry looked at him. "Like Voldemort?"

Hesitantly, Sirius nodded. "Yeah, like him. They...a lot of my relatives joined him when he got powerful, actually. But even those who didn't thought he had the right ideas."

"But how can they be evil when you're not?"

"I-" Sirius winced. He wished nothing more than to hug Harry, to hold him close and to tell him – and himself – that everything would be fine. But he knew that he couldn't do that yet, that there was a reason Harry was standing on the other side of the room, with Remus' bed safely between them. First, he had to win back the boy's trust.

"Not all parents are nice, I'm afraid," he said hesitantly. "Like I said, I hated it, and they weren't very fond of me either. I left when I was sixteen."

Harry's eyes grew big. "You ran away from home?"

Sirius nodded. He hated thinking about any of this, and he had almost never talked about it, but somehow with Harry it was alright. "I went to your Dad's. His parents took me in until I could get my own home. James was my brother, and the Potters were more parents to me than my own ever had been."

Harry didn't answer for a while, and Sirius knew that the real problem had not been breached yet.

 _Kreacher. He knew for some time that this was your home, but it didn't bother him. Not until he found out you're a slave master to his friend._

He dreaded to talk about it, but he knew that it had to be done.

"Do you know what Kreacher is, Harry?"

As expected, Harry's expression immediately closed. "He's my friend," he said defiantly, adopting a stubborn tone that reminded Sirius very much of Lily.

"I know," Sirius nodded. "But his kind are called house elves. Has Remus ever mentioned them in your lessons?" A short shake of the head. "They are magical creatures who live to serve wizards and witches."

Harry looked up sharply. "Like slaves?" he challenged.

Sirius winced. "I...yes, in a way. It's not very nice – medieval, actually. They are magically bound to a family and forced to obey any command a family member gives them. If they don't, they have to punish themselves."

Harry stared at him, aghast. "That's horrible! Why do wizards do that? Can't the government forbid it?"

"I...They don't want to. The strange thing is, house elves are generally quite happy to serve. To them, freedom is dishonourable. Most of them love the family they serve, and they generally adore anything they do. Which is why me and Kreacher never got along. He loved my mother – still does, actually – and he shares her views."

Harry was silent for a while, looking stunned. Then, he frowned. "I don't believe you," he said, defiantly meeting Sirius' gaze. "Kreacher is nice. He's not an evil person, and he doesn't like Voldemort."

"I...maybe he has changed," Sirius offered. He very much doubted that, having heard enough of the house elf when they had first moved in here, but he didn't want to quarrel with Harry again. "When I was a child, he was horrid to me. He kept stealing or destroying things that I owned, and he crept into my room at night to snoop around. That's why I got so angry when I saw him in your room. I thought he was trying to hurt you."

Harry didn't seem very convinced. "Is that why you locked him away up there? He said he wasn't allowed downstairs."

Feeling guilt prickle on his neck, Sirius nodded. "Yes, I...I thought it would be best if you didn't see him, that he might scare you – he scared me when I was younger – so I told him to stay out of sight before you got here. I would set him free if I could, but he knows too much about us. He'd go straight to my cousin, and her husband is a Death Eater who would gladly sell us out to the ministry."

"He wouldn't do that!" Harry cried immediately, but Sirius could see doubt flicker across his eyes.

"Maybe not," he agreed, not wanting to push the matter, "But it's not a risk we can take."

They were silent again.

"I am sorry for what happened last night," Sirius said again, wondering if his explanation had done anything to redeem him in Harry's eyes. "I did a lot of things wrong, and I nearly hurt you in the process. It will never happen again. I promise."

"Can't you...can't you try and make up with Kreacher?" Harry asked hesitantly, hope shining on his face. "He's a bit odd, but he can be really nice. He gave me a button for letting him stay in my room during the full moon!"

He took something small and silvery from his pocket and held it out for Sirius to inspect. "That's...that's very nice," Sirius said, feeling tears of guilt and emotion well up in his eyes. Not because of the button – if he wasn't mistaken, it was from one of his great-uncles old dressing gowns – but the fact that Harry had actually cared enough about Kreacher to worry about his safety.

Sirius hadn't even spared a single thought for the house elf, much less wondered if he would know how to avoid the werewolf.

"I will," he managed. "I'll be nicer to Kreacher from now on, I promise." He very much doubted it would be reciprocated, or even that he himself could do it – Kreacher was, and always had been, a vile, sneaking vermin – but he knew that he had to try if he wanted any hope of reclaiming Harry's trust.

Finally, a smile spread over the boy's face. "Thank you, Sirius!" He ran forward and flung himself in Sirius' arms.

"Anything for you, Prongslet," Sirius muttered, holding Harry tight as tears of relief threatened to break free of his eyes. And he knew that for Harry, he would befriend a thousand revolting house elves if he had to.

Their embrace was interrupted by a third voice, even hoarser than Sirius' had been.

"P-Padfoot? What's going on?"


	20. Another Letter

**Bit shorter today, I do apologize.**

 **Thank you all for your wonderful reviews, they are very much appreciated!**

* * *

 **Another letter**

"Is it true that your great-great-great-grandfather owned a dragon? Kreacher told me he used it to guard his home."

Remus winced automatically at the mention of the house-elf, and threw a worried glance towards his friend. But luckily, Sirius managed to supress the disgust that usual found its way to his face whenever Kreacher was mentioned, and merely shrugged.

"Might have," he said, "Keeping dragons hasn't been illegal for that long. Can't have been a big one, though, if they kept it here."

"Actually, dragon breeding's been outlawed since 1709," Remus pointed out, glad to have avoided another fight. "So it might not be true at all."

"He got it from Russia. His uncle went there during some war, and took the egg home as a prize. But he died before it hatched, so Corvus got it." Harry seemed proud to possess knowledge that Sirius and Remus didn't, and Remus had to admit he was impressed. So far, he hadn't gotten the impression that Harry was particularly interested in history, but apparently Kreacher's tales had somehow sparked his interest.

"Which one? The Napoleonic War?" he asked, but Sirius was faster.

"I wouldn't listen to everything he says," he said, a grumpy expression on his face. "He wasn't even born back then, and he likes to exaggerate."

"He's not lying!" Harry defended the house-elf, looking annoyed. "He showed me a portrait of Corvus and his dragon. And it moved!"

Sirius' face darkened further. "Should never have given them to him," he muttered.

Remus decided that it was time to intervene. "Then I'm sure it's true. Do you want your pudding now or after you've done your homework?"

"After," Harry decided, and got up to clear away his plate. "Thank you for lunch, Remus." With that, he was gone, leaving a rather sullen silence.

As he got the dishes to wash themselves in the sink, Remus wondered if he should say something.

It was an odd truce that had been established in Grimmauld Place. Kreacher was no longer confined to the upper levels, but instead had permission to roam the house – with the expressed exception of their bedrooms, for which Remus was very grateful. He wasn't allowed to steal anything, family heirlooms or their own private belongings, but on Harry's insistence Sirius had granted him everything that he and Remus had been planning to throw away, including those portraits that didn't have a connection to the outside world and were deemed harmless.

They didn't see much of the elf. He had tried to cook breakfast for Harry once, but had been quickly driven out by Sirius. They knew he secretly cleaned some rooms – those that he thought Harry might want to use – but apart from that he kept to his own room, probably enjoying his newfound treasures. Harry visited him occasionally – too often, in Sirius eyes – but apart from that they largely ignored each other.

Remus wasn't quite sure what had happened the day after the full moon. Something must have, something bad. But Sirius hadn't wanted to talk about it, only that Harry now knew about the Black family and that he was apparently "friends" with Kreacher.

Remus hadn't asked Harry, having seen enough hints to figure some of it out for himself. The alcohol collection had been gone when he had next come down to the study. And, most tellingly, Sirius had asked him to take up the Occlumency lessons again.

 _Whatever Sirius has done, Harry is still fine. That's all that matters._

The full moon had been almost two weeks ago, and slowly normality had returned. Remus had still trouble with walking – and he refused to use the snake-engraved walking stick that Harry had dug up for him, probably with the help of Kreacher – but it wasn't like he had to do a great deal of walking anyway, given they were still stuck.

"Think it really was a dragon?" Sirius said after a while.

Remus couldn't help the smile creeping onto his face. "Maybe...Are you sure you're not distantly related to Hagrid?"

"That would explain my mother's looks..." The animagus did his best to keep the disgruntled expression on his face, but had to chuckle, too.

"Another round of practice? You almost had it last night."

It was true. Sirius had no great gift in Occlumency, and he himself being an amateur at best Remus wasn't exactly the most proficient teacher, but now that he was finally convinced of the necessity, Sirius tried a lot harder than during their previous, failed attempt. He often managed to block Remus' attacks, and the night before he had even started a counterattack of his own.

Of course, that was only the easy part. Their actual aim, using the skill to get rid of the lingering Dementor effects in Sirius mind, would be much harder. In fact, Remus had no clue how to go at it.

Or what to do about their increasing food shortage...

So far, they were still doing alright. No fresh vegetables, of course, but at least some frozen ones. Soon, however, they would have to start living from tin cans alone. And after that...

"Wow, that was way too easy. Stop being a gloomy prick and concentrate."

Remus flinched as he felt Sirius poking around in his mind, and quickly pushed him out. "Well done," he managed to force down his annoyance, "I told you you could get there."

* * *

As he worked on his math homework, Harry's mind couldn't help but wander. It had been an odd atmosphere in the house since the incident after the full moon. On the one hand, he felt relief at everything finally being out in the open, so that he didn't have to feel so terribly guilty anymore for lying to Sirius and Remus. And, even more important, he felt that Sirius was finally honest with _him_.

But this new-found openness came at a price. Despite his promise, it was obvious that Sirius did not like Kreacher the slightest. Sure, he certainly seemed to try, but Harry never missed the cold dislike that came into his eyes whenever he looked at Kreacher. It was unsettling seeing his godfather like this, when up until now Sirius had never been anything but kind and cheerful.

Not that Kreacher was any different, with the exception that he barely even bothered to hide his contempt for his master. He had stopped calling him or Remus names after Harry had repeatedly asked him to – at least he never did so anymore when Harry was around – but the snarky comments and murderous looks stayed.

Harry, who liked both of them – even though Kreacher could be rather creepy at times – ended up spending time with his godfather and the house elf separately. It was alright, even though it was a little disheartening to see how hostile both of them got when he mentioned the other one.

He had wondered if he should ask Remus for help, but he didn't know how the werewolf thought about Kreacher. Sure, he was friendly enough whenever he met the house-elf, but after all he was Sirius' best friend, and Kreacher treated him with the same contempt, if not worse.

His rumbling stomach distracted him from his pondering, and he winced. Sirius and Remus tried to hide it from him, but Harry knew that their food was running out. For once, it was hard to ignore how similar all their meals had become, and how none of them contained any of the fresh ingredients that Remus had insisted on in the earlier days. And Harry had also noticed how Sirius barely ever asked for a second or even third helping anymore, something that would have been unthinkable a month ago.

They didn't have to tell Harry for him to know that they were slowly but surely running out of food.

Harry himself had taken to copying his godfather, and asked for much smaller portions than he usually would have. It wasn't too bad – after all, hunger was something he had grown up with, and it was a lot easier to bear when he wasn't being locked up in a cupboard.

But he knew, of course, that it couldn't go on like this forever. However little, they had to eat _something_ , and at some point they would run out. And then... the two scarlet figures were still perched in the square in front of their house every day, like looming statues. And somewhere, even though they couldn't see them, lingered the pirate or whoever else the Order had sent today.

 _It'll be alright. Sirius and Remus are smart, they will think of something._

Except it had been almost three weeks, and neither of them seemed to have any idea what to do. Harry wished he could do something, _anything_ , but what would that be? He was just a child, a wizard maybe but a dreadfully clueless one. All the people he counted as his friends were in this house. All three...

Suddenly, Harry had an idea.

* * *

Albus stared at the piece of parchment on his desk, seeing the ink without really reading it. Months of silence. And now...

Distractedly, he wondered how they had managed to deliver it. The letter had been sitting on his desk when he had entered his office this morning. The windows were closed, so it couldn't have been sent by owl. Some spell? They had always been inventive with those... He stopped his musings, returning to the parchment in his hand.

 _Nice try. Not sure why you think this is "helping us", but I guess you've always played by different rules than the rest of us mere mortals._

He could practically hear the anger in the messy scrawl, the parchment punctuated by the quill in some places. It had been years since he had last seen this hand, but Albus knew immediately who it belonged to.

 _It won't stop us from going out, though. Feel free to continue wasting ministry resources with the stupid wards – I'll applaud that, actually – but I don't think the minister will be impressed. It's really rather pointless._

Albus felt a twinge of guilt at reading those words. He had long hesitated before asking minister Bagnold to implement the anti-apparition wards, knowing what it would mean for the three fugitives. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and he was nothing if not desperate.

 _I think we should just ignore you and your petty little attempts to lock Harry up again, but Remus insists we speak. Your office, Monday ten o'clock. If you sent us a Patronus swearing that he can come and go unimpeded. Try and trick us, and you will regret it. That's a promise._

Albus stared at the letter for a long time. A meeting...when he had sent the first Patronus, that was exactly what he had hoped for. But to have it dictated like this, without having any say in the matter...

 _Why should they trust you, though? You have done nothing to help them so far, quite the contrary._

He sighed, his gaze wandering over to where Phineas Nigellus sat perched in his chair, his head leaning on the edge of his frame. How Albus wished to gain an insight in what was going on in that house...

Finally, he straightened up and drew his wand. Whatever the circumstances, that meeting would be an opportunity for some much needed openness. It helped that it was Remus who would come to talk. Remus had always been the most level headed out of the four Marauders, the one most easily reasoned with. If Albus explained to him the facts – the full facts – surely he would understand, would see the need for Harry to return to his family.

" _Expecto Patronum_ "

 _I give you my word._

* * *

 **As many of you already guessed way back: Yes, Kreacher can apparate out of there despite the wards, and yes, that is what Harry figures out in this chapter. I thought about elaborating on it a bit further, but really this seemed sufficient. Well done all of you for guessing my "clever" plan! (Note to self: Make future clever plans more clever)  
**

 **Anyway, I promise the next chapter will be longer :)**


	21. The Parting of the Ways

**An update!**

 **I do apologize for the long wait. This chapter has been ready for a while, but I didn't get to write a lot during the last weeks and didn't want to lose my head start, so I've been postponing posting it.**

 **katmom: It was indeed Kreacher who delivered the letter. He can apparate in and out of Grimmauld Place and also take Remus with him when he does, so the food crisis has been resolved.**

 **alix33: Given that at that point they were running out of food, Harry's pudding consisted of something that can be stored over a long time, probably ice cream.**

 **E.R Man: I know Thatcher's been divisive and has lots of fans despite everything, but I always saw Remus as a left-wing liberal (Guardian reader, in short), and thus he would not be fond of her. It has also been documented that he's from the North, where Thatcher was generally disliked a great deal more.**

 **Guest: That "back to normal" was more in regard to their relationships. Harry's overcome his shock at finding out Sirius is Kreacher's master, and he's back to trusting him.**

* * *

 **The Parting of the Ways**

It was a wonderfully bright June morning when Remus walked through the school gates on Monday morning. Not a single cloud obscured the azure blue sky, the lake shone in the sun and even the Forbidden Forest looked green and fresh. Despite the early hours there were quite a few students strewn around the grounds, sitting in little groups or walking along the shore.

Remus felt an unexpected pang at this idyllic picture, remembering the time when he himself had sat under that beech tree with his friends, laughing and joking, their only worries a potion essay and how to sneak past Filch the next full moon.

He must've looked a little lost, because the next thing he knew a voice tore him from his memories, and he found himself staring in a curious face framed by startlingly blue curls. "Looking for something?"

He flinched, realizing that he had inadvertently stopped next to a group of Hufflepuff students, who were now all scrutinizing him with the same intense curiosity.

"Erm, I...I'm...I'm here for a meeting with the headmaster," he managed to overcome his surprise, and, remembering his cover story, quickly continued, "To interview for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position."

Now it was the Hufflepuffs who looked surprised. Remus could hardly blame him – in his shabby coat and heavily mended robes he probably didn't look very capable of defending himself, let alone anyone else.

The girl who had spoken to him recovered first. "Cool!" she said brightly, her smile never wavering, "D'you want us to show you the way? I've been called to his office loads of times; I could probably find it in my sleep by now."

Remus managed to supress a chuckle, thinking that surely she could have nothing on him and the Marauders, and merely shook his head politely. "Very generous, but I do know the way. I better go now. Good day to you all."

He quickly set off again, now noticing the several heads turning in his direction as he brusquely walked across the path up to the castle. He supposed that it was only natural for the students to be curious about any strangers, in a place so secluded from the outside world as Hogwarts was.

Back in his own school days, unfamiliar adults coming up to the castle had rarely been good news – more often than not it had been parents or relatives collecting a student whose family members had been killed.

He shook off the dark thoughts, focusing instead on the mission at hand.

It had taken him days to convince Sirius that they could not go on like this, even after Harry and Kreacher had solved their food crisis.

House elf magic was powerful, and Kreacher was indeed able to apparate them in and out of the house, despite the wards. But he was not all-powerful, and despite the curious friendship between him and Harry, Remus was all but convinced of Kreacher's loyalty. One falsely-worded order and they could lose that advantage.

Reaching the entrance hall, Remus looked around carefully. The ministry wasn't looking for him, so he hadn't bothered to come in disguise, and he assumed that Dumbledore had told those staff members who were in the Order that he was coming, but he'd still rather not run into any of them. Or any of the other teachers, he mused, as he remembered that Severus Snape was now working at Hogwarts as well.

Wondering if the Map was still in Filch's office where they had left it at the end of their seventh year, and wishing he had it with him now, Remus quickly climbed the first set of stairs and headed towards a secret passage behind a tapestry that would bring him straight to the fifth floor. It was a longer route, but it meant less chance of running into anybody.

Mrs Norris found him as he stepped out into the corridor, but after one short second of hesitation she merely bristled her fur and raced off. Remus couldn't help but grin, remembering that eventful night in their sixth year when Sirius, as Padfoot, had chased the cat through the castle for hours – Filch having been taken care of by James and a rather powerful sleeping charm beforehand – after which she had never bothered any of them ever again, and fled in terror whenever Sirius came in sight. It was nice to see that Mrs Norris remembered as well.

Remus wasn't surprised when the gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's office merely nodded at his approach, and opened up without so much as asking for a password. Yet he couldn't help but feel nervous as he stepped onto the moving stairs.

This would be the first time he faced the headmaster since his betrayal, and he had no idea how the meeting would go. Was Dumbledore angry? Disappointed? Would he understand?

There was only one way to find out.

* * *

The first thing Albus noticed was how much healthier Remus looked. Not physically – in fact, with the full moon just one week away, his skin was already rather pale. But he radiated a strength and confidence that Dumbledore had not seen in him for many years, his eyes having lost almost completely the dull haze that had covered them whenever they had met after the war. For the first time in almost seven years, Remus Lupin looked happy.

"Good morning, headmaster."

Quickly pulling himself out of his musings, Albus smiled. "Good morning, Remus. Please do sit down."

The werewolf nodded wordlessly, shuffling over to a chair and sitting down like a student waiting to be reprimanded.

"Thank you for meeting me. I am aware that things have been...difficult."

Remus nodded again, finally raising his head to meet Albus' gaze. "They have. But it's not really me who wants to talk to you. I'm simply the messenger." He fished in his pocket and revealed a small, rectangular object that turned out to be a mirror. "Padfoot?"

Almost immediately, the surface of the mirror blurred like water ripples, and when Remus turned it towards Albus the face staring up at him wasn't his own, but...

"Sirius..."

"Dumbledore. Heard you were looking for me?"

Albus quickly managed to hide his surprise. "A two-way mirror?" he asked, nodding to himself. "Very useful. And rather rare."

"Yeah, well, it's not for sale," Sirius snapped, looking impatient, "And we're not here to talk about magical curiosities."

"No," Albus agreed, his gaze flickering over to Remus, who was holding the mirror with a blank expression that could not quite hide his tension. "Though if I might ask, why are you here? I was under the impression that you had rejected my offer of help."

"We don't need your help," Sirius spat, and even in the small mirror Albus could see the fury burn in his grey eyes.

 _Innocent. He's not the Death Eater you thought him. Still,you have done nothing to make him like you during the past months._

"We've come to ask you to call off the hunt," Remus cut in, obviously not trusting his friend's restraint. "You know neither me nor Sirius intent to harm Harry. He is safe with us, happy. There is no need to waste the Order's time in chasing after us."

"You won't find us anyway," Sirius added.

Albus sighed. _Time for the truth._

"We are not after you because we think you intend to hurt him. I know both of you would do anything for the boy, would rather die than let Harry come to harm. But we all know that even that is not always enough. Voldemort's power-"

"He's gone," Sirius snapped, "And even if he'll come back, you can't honestly think that keeping him with those muggles is a better preparation than having him in the know, train him maybe-"

"Frank and Alice Longbottom had excellent training," Albus cut in. "Caradoc Dearborn was the undisputed British duelling champion for six years. Whatever we do, there is only one place where Harry will be safe, completely safe."

"With Petunia and Dursley?" Remus asked, incredulously. "Why?"

"Because it is the one place where Lily Potter's blood still flows," Dumbledore explained slowly, carefully watching their faces to see how the other two would react. "The protection she gave Harry the night she died, the protection that kept Voldemort from killing him – as long as he calls that place his home, it will hold. Voldemort could not touch him there even if he attacked with all his Death Eaters. Harry will be safe."

Silence followed his words. Remus was the first to break it. "That's why you sent him there," he said slowly, frowning, "I always wondered..." He looked shaken and uncertain, and Albus felt hope rise in him. _Maybe if I can convince him..._

Sirius was quiet for longer, but when he spoke the defiance had not left his voice. "So you condemned him to a life in hell just so he would be a little bit safer?"

Albus hadn't expected him to agree, remembering very well the headstrong boy from ten years ago. "You know Voldemort's power. He can break wards, he can break the Fidelius – "

"It was Peter who broke it, not him," Sirius snapped, and hearing the fresh anger Albus knew mentioning the Charm had been a mistake. "He can't get to Harry, even if he _had_ his power back. Which he doesn't."

"He will come ba-"

"And when he will, we will fight him again. But I will not let you make my godson's life miserable out of fear. We fought that war so we could live our lives in peace and happiness, not locked away in a cupboard. Did you know they kept him in a fucking cupboard, Dumbledore? Did you?"

"Padfoot-"

"I didn't," Albus said quickly, when the first portraits started to wake up from the raised voice, "though I had my suspicions they were not treating him well."

"And you still want to send him back there?"

"It's for his own good, Sirius! We can talk to them, see to it that he is treated better this time."

"Over my dead body," Sirius snarled. "He's not setting foot there ever again."

"But...what if he's right, Padfoot?" Remus, who had kept out of the discussion so far, suddenly spoke up. "The protection...it's powerful magic, very powerful. Throwing it away just like that-"

"Not _just like that_ ," Sirius spat, interrupting his friend. Albus was rather amazed how he managed to be such a powerful presence in the room despite speaking from inside a tiny mirror. "You saw what he was like when we got him out of there. Do you think any sort of charm is worth that? I _promised_ him he would never have to go back there again. I'm not going to break that promise."

He was stating a fact, not making a demand. Albus knew that there was no way of convincing him. He sighed. "Can I talk to Harry?"

Sirius stiffened immediately. "No," he snapped at once. "You're not getting near him."

"I'm not near him. If you are where I think you are there's half a country between me and Harry," Albus said calmly. "I just want to talk to him," he continued more urgently when Sirius merely scowled, "I am not going to try and trick him into going back to the Dursleys."

The man in the mirror snorted. "Yeah right. When was the last time you held a conversation with someone who you weren't trying to manipulate?"

That stung, more than Albus liked to admit to himself. "I understand you don't trust me," he conceded. "And I cannot blame you. But you must believe me that I only have-"

"Sirius?"

All three men paused at the fourth voice, sounding distantly from the mirror. Albus felt his pulse quicken. It had been a boy's voice, _his_ -

"Not now, Prongslet" Sirius voice sounded muffled, and instead of his face Dumbledore could now only see the wooden texture of a table. "Remember that mission Moony's going on? I'm helping him."

"Oh," the voice made, barely audible. "When is he coming home?"

"Soon. So you better get your homework done, or he'll be cross. And you know how terrible dinner is when he's cross."

Albus barely registered Sirius' answer, staring at the dark mirror in shock.

 _When is he coming home?_

He felt the calm façade slip of his face as the realization hit him.

 _Home._ Not _back_ , not _here_... _home._

It was too late.

"Professor?" Remus' voice made him look up, and he found the younger man looking at him in confusion and worry.

"I- that was Harry?" Albus asked weakly, desperately clinging to the last sliver of hope.

Remus frowned. "Yes, of course. Why- oh." From the way his face paled Albus gathered that he had understood as well. "Merlin..."

"Can we wrap this up now, Moony?" Sirius had returned to the mirror. "He's not going back, and that's it. Now unless you want to go back on your word and actually hold him in your office, Dumbledore, I-"

"I won't," Albus heard himself say, voice rather mechanical. "I won't stop Remus, and I won't come after you. The Order will no longer trouble you, and the apparition ward will be removed."

Sirius seemed surprised. "And how come-"

"The Charm," Remus supplied quietly. "It's already broken. Harry doesn't think of Privet Drive as his home anymore – hasn't for quite a while, I think. There's no point in sending him back."

Sirius was silent for a bit. "Oh," he finally made, sounding rather perplexed. "That's...good, I guess?"

"It makes things easier," Remus muttered. "Whether it's good..."

"Let me help you," Albus interrupted, finally having pulled himself out of his shock.

 _It was just one plan. There are others. Maybe they are right, maybe they can keep him safe._

"Help?" Sirius snorted. "Why'd we need your help?"

"Because you are a wanted criminal, you live in hiding and Harry needs a proper home. I can help you-"

"A proper home? Didn't care about that so much when you sent him to Mr and Mrs Pigshit, did you?" Sirius snarled. "I've had enough of your _help_ Dumbledore. Just leave us alone and find someone else to manipulate."

"Padfoot-"

"No. He's not offering his help because he cares, but so he can keep an eye on Harry. You saw him just now. If not the Dursleys, he'd find something else to torture him with. I'm not letting that vulture near him. Good day, Dumbledore."

The mirror clouded over, and Albus saw his own face looking up at him. It didn't look very happy.

"I apologize," Remus said, putting the mirror back in his pocket and looking rather embarrassed. "He's...frustrated."

"Understandably so," Albus said, scrutinizing a quill on his desk before raising his eyes to meet Remus'. "I'm assuming you will stand behind his decision?"

The younger man looked deeply uncomfortable, but he held his gaze. "I will stick with Sirius," he said, his voice firm. "If we decide to contact you, we will do so together." His tone was friendly, but the message was clear.

 _I will not be your spy._

Albus hadn't expected him to take up the offer, anyway.

"In that case, I shall hope to hear from both of you at some point," he said, standing and holding out his hand to his former student. "And you might not believe me, but I am happy for you, Remus. I wish you all the very best."

Remus shook his hand, looking as if he wanted to say something. But in the end he just nodded. "And you, Professor."

As he watched the younger man descend the stairs, Albus wondered just how soon they would meet again, and under what circumstances. But he knew that he hadn't been lying when he had wished Remus happiness.

 _Maybe they were right, and you were wrong. Maybe a happy childhood really is worth the risk of death._

But the doubt stayed.

 _His own death, maybe. But how many others will perish should he not be there to fulfil the prophecy?_

* * *

As he walked back through the almost empty halls, Remus felt oddly light-hearted. The meeting hadn't exactly gone the way he had hoped – they were still hiding, and Sirius was still as far away from trusting Dumbledore as he had been before.

But for what it mattered, they were free.

No more Order members lurking in front of their house, no more nightmares for Harry. The ministry still hunted Sirius, but they had no idea where he was, or who he was with. As long as they were careful, they could live their life in peace.

Of course, there remained the glum feeling about the protection charm... it was hard to forget the horror that had marred Dumbledore's face when he had realized it was gone. Was it justified? Had they really brought Harry into mortal danger trough their recklessness?

 _Maybe he was just annoyed because you destroyed his plan. Harry would've been a lot easier to influence if he had grown up with the Dursleys._

The thought made him uncomfortable. He wanted to brush it off, to convince himself that Dumbledore had just been worried about Harry... but somehow he couldn't. Remus admired Albus Dumbledore to no end, and betraying him in the way he had was still filling him with regret and guilt, but he could not without lying claim that the old wizard never had an ulterior motive, even when helping people.

 _It doesn't matter now. The charm is gone, and Dumbledore won't get Harry._

He managed to push the thoughts aside, returning to his previous cheerfulness. He had reached the grounds now, and marvelled at the warm sun shining on his face. His step felt light and energetic, despite the stiffness that still pained his leg.

"How'd it go, Sir?"

He looked up, realizing that he had reached the Hufflepuffs again.

"I don't think I got the job, sadly," he said, trying to make his voice sound convincingly disappointed.

It didn't appear to work, because as he walked away he could hear the blue-haired girl mutter to her friends: "Didn't look very sad, did he?"

He couldn't help but grin at that. No, he mused, as he stepped through the large iron gates and cast one last look back at the castle, he really didn't feel very sad at all.

 **The End**

* * *

 **Fear not! This is not actually the end (I just liked writing that), as there will be a full-length epilogue to wrap things up.  
**

 **Once that's through, I will probably take a short break in posting, as I only just started writing the sequel. The general plot for this story is however already worked out, so it's just a matter of actually writing it down. I'll tell you a bit more about it in the next update.**

 **In the meantime, why not leave a review? ;)**


	22. Epilogue

**This is it, then. The final chapter...**

 **First of all, let me thank all of the wonderful people who read, followed and reviewed this story. I don't think I would've finished it without you. You are simply the best!:)**

 **Secondly, even though this one is now through, I will continue the plot, as previously mentioned. The sequel I have planned will pick up a couple of years later (it'll be titled "The Other Letter", make of that what you will) and it might take me a while to get it properly started, but there'll be another story, or rather a collection of Oneshots, to fill the gaps in the remaining years. It'll be titled "Pictures" and the first chapter should be up in one or two weeks. So keep your eyes open for them!**

 **Thundramon: Good idea about Percy's rat... but I'm afraid Sirius will have to wait for his freedom a little bit longer :/**

 **Darkstar-ranger: We'll definitely see Harry at Hogwarts (what kind of Harry Potter story doesn't feature Hogwarts?) but it might still be a while. The plan generally is to see this all the way through until book seven, but obviously I can't promise anything yet, as that is still ages and ages away.**

 **katmom: Dumbledore certainly made a bit of a rash call there, but I he never thought Harry was in any real danger. He knew Remus and Sirius would be far too careful to let him come to harm.**

 **RoboTitaness: Practice! I've been writing stories pretty much ever since I could write, and reading my early work usually makes me cringe horribly XD**

 **Irindiglo: To be honest, I always thought that whole blood protection wasn't very well explained in the books, and left a lot of room for interpretation (or confusion). I'm actually rather glad I won't have to reincorporate it any longer...**

 **I Want To Die69: Thanks! I'm not entirely sure how far the next instalment will go, but definitely not past year one.**

 **alix33: I'm glad you liked it! And you're right, Dumbledore needed to hear that. I also wanted to thank you for spotting all my mistakes during this whole story (and my other ones), I really appreciate that you take the time to help me get rid of them:)**

 **Dragonson: It was Tonks, but I don't think she has a clue who Remus even was. She's still a fifth year here, and even though she probably heard about Sirius escaping, the general population have no idea Harry even went missing.**

 **lojosmom: He sure did – though it'll obviously be a while until they start dating, or even meet again. If you want fluff, look out for Pictures – it'll just be Oneshots, and it'll basically be 100% fluff (with some angst strewn in, but quickly followed by more fluff.)**

 **Obviously thanks to all the other reviewers, too, I hope I didn't miss any questions!**

 **Now, without blabbing on any longer, here's the final chapter... enjoy:) (as this is the epilogue, I decided to mirror layout ofthe first chapter - art and all that!)  
**

* * *

 **Epilogue**

 **The Dog on the Bed**

"I still think we should keep it until next year, or at least Christmas..."

Sirius snorted at his friend who was uneasily looking down at the large parcel in his hands. "It says aged seven or older. He's _eight._ If anything, we should've gone for a faster one."

"It also says outside use only," Remus pointed out, but obviously realized that the fight had been lost and put the wrapped broom back on the table. "At least make sure he knows he's only allowed to fly it with one of us watching."

"Sure, Granddad." Sirius rolled his eyes as he swung his wand at the balloons filling the room, enlarging them for the fourth time that morning. Finally satisfied, he turned around with a grin. "You're just worried he'll forget all about your presents 'cos mine is so much cooler."

"I wasn't aware this was a competition," Remus muttered, moving the cake a little so the candles weren't directly below a balloon.

Sirius grinned, feeling ridiculously happy. "Everything is a competition if you make it so," he pointed out, before turning his head to the – now functional – clock. "Reckon he's up by now? Maybe he's afraid to come down."

"Or maybe he's just sleeping, seeing as it's not even eight. Good morning, Kreacher."

Sirius' head snapped around as he saw the house elf shuffling in the room. His euphoria immediately dimmed. "Kreacher sees the Master and his friend," the house elf muttered. "Kreacher sees they have not choked during the night."

Sirius snorted, not greeting the house elf, but found he couldn't muster up quite the same revulsion he might have a month ago. As the house elf went, the greeting had been almost cordial; he hadn't called them any names and sounded only marginally disappointed at their continued existence. Deciding to make a similar effort, seeing as it was Harry's birthday, Sirius forced a somewhat sincere smile on his face. "Is that for Harry, Kreacher? Why don't you put it to the other ones?"

The house elf, holding a small, rather shabbily wrapped parcel, slowly turned is head, for once meeting Sirius' eyes. For a moment they simply looked at each other, neither moving a muscle. When the house elf finally lowered his head and shuffled over to the large wooden table, Sirius felt there was an unspoken agreement between them.

 _Peace for the sake of Harry._

Sirius would never like the house elf, and Kreacher would never feel anything but contempt for his Master. But they would keep their hatred to themselves, not burdening the boy they both cared for with it – even though Sirius still could not understand the strange loyalty that Kreacher felt towards Harry.

It was not ideal, and it might not always work. But it was enough for now, and if it made Harry happy then Sirius would do everything to keep it this way.

"It's past eight now," he pointed out after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, returning to his original conversation with Remus. "I think I'll go and see if he's up."

Remus sighed exasperatedly from where he had sat down on the sofa, and lowered his _Prophet_. "If you must. But go quietly, he's allowed to sleep in on his birthday."

Sirius didn't answer, already transforming into the large black dog. Valiantly ignoring the smell of bacon and sausages wafting in from the kitchen he set off towards the stairs, climbing them in a well-practiced – and not very quiet – run.

From below, he could hear hurried steps, and Remus hissing after him from downstairs. "Padfoot! No jumping on his bed!"

But Padfoot didn't listen, already at the top of the stairs, and cautiously walked over to Harry's door, listening intently. All was quiet. He grinned to himself. Careful not to make a noise he rose to his hind paws, diligently pushing down the door handle. As expected, Harry was still peacefully sleeping, one arm hanging off his bed, the other tightly clutching his stuffed stag. Padfoot's grin broadened.

As the other Marauders had all learned first-hand, there really was really only one way to be woken up on one's birthday.

* * *

 **The Man in the Armchair**

He winced at the sound of something crashing, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Kreacher do the same. Harry, being his father's son, had of course loved the broomstick his godfather had given him for his birthday, and insisted on trying it out on the spot.

After some debate Remus had convinced him to at least wait till after breakfast, but now that the last strip of bacon had been gulped down by Padfoot, there was no holding them back. Remus knew that he shouldn't worry about Harry. Sirius might be reckless to the point of idiocy when it came to himself – and, occasionally, other people – but he'd never risk Harry coming to harm. They had chosen the drawing room as a starting point for Harry to learn, as it was the largest room in the house and, unlike the library, not filled with countless bookshelves. Sirius had put a cushioning charm on all the walls and even dug out an old Quidditch helmet for Harry, so realistically there was no way the boy could come to harm.

The same, however, could not be said about the remaining furniture and decorations. There was another crash, sounding like metal hitting the ground. Looking over to Kreacher – who had insisted on cleaning up all the wrapping paper after Harry had opened his presents – he could see that the house elf was actually trembling now, obviously struggling very hard to keep himself from apparating up there and saving the family heirlooms.

"The brat is enjoying itself. Kreacher must not disturb it, no, no. Little Master Brat must be happy today."

Remus felt an odd burst of sympathy at the distracted muttering.

 _In his own strange way he cares for Harry, just as you do._

That, and the house elf had basically saved them from starvation. Even though Remus was glad to be able to apparate in and out of Grimmauld Place on his own again, he had to admit that house elf magic had proven extraordinarily useful.

He could hear barking now, and Harry's bubbling laughter. There was a loud bang, as if something heavy had fallen over.

"Kreacher," Remus put down the quill, looking over the house elf who had started to stuff wrapping paper into his enormous ears, obviously attempting to block out the sounds. The house elf had never shown any inclination to obey a command from him – not that Remus had tried – but he looked up now nevertheless. "Do you know how to make chocolate éclairs? I know that Harry loves them, but I could only get the ready-made ones from the muggle store."

As he had hoped, the house elves eyes lit up at once. "Master Brat wants Éclairs?" he repeated, slowly. "Mater Brat can't have muggle filth for his birthday! Kreacher will make proper ones!"

Remus smiled as he watched him go, looking just as happy as he had when Harry had hugged him after opening the house elf's present (a rather ugly looking portrait of Harry, obviously painted by Kreacher himself). But even though Remus had only sent Kreacher away so he would have a distraction from the destruction upstairs, he couldn't help but feel guilty at the sliver of relief he felt when the door closed behind the elf.

House elves and the slavish loyalty they felt made him deeply uncomfortable, and even though he knew it was unfair he could never quite relax with Kreacher around.

 _You'll just have to learn,_ he decided, returning to his parchment, _Merlin knows there's plenty of people who feel uncomfortable around you and still make an effort._

"GRYFFINDOR WINS!"

He flinched, almost upsetting the mug of tea he'd been balancing on the armrest, but despite the hot liquid splashing over his fingers he couldn't help but smile.

 _This is what it's supposed to be like._

There was a fire burning in the corner – it might be the middle of summer, but the house had the uncanny ability to be cold and drafty all year round – and he was sitting comfortably and without worry about where the next meal might come from. And, most importantly, he wasn't alone.

For now, he'd decided to give Sirius and Harry some time on their own, but he knew that he could join them anytime he wanted. After lunch – which would, in proper birthday fashion, consist of cake and hopefully éclairs – they'd go to a nearby park – in contrast to them, Kreacher could safely apparate Harry, and after the supervision through "the pirate" had ended Harry had been rather eager to leave the house – and maybe go see a movie, something that Harry had never done. Then, in the evening they'd read together cramped into Harry's bed as had become their routine (even Kreacher had taken to lurking in the doorframe).

If somebody had told him a few months ago that his life would soon look like this, he'd probably have laughed at them. This domestic mundanity – or as mundane as it could be if you were an escaped convict, a kidnaped boy and a werewolf, plus a house elf who wanted to see two of them dead – was something he had never seen for himself, not even when Lily and James had been alive and he still thought that things would turn out alright.

 _In a way, they have._

He returned to the piece of parchment that he was balancing on a book on his legs, and dunked the quill into the ink once more, determined to finish his letter before they went out.

 _I am sorry about the secrecy; I know I promised to drop it after the war. If it helps, the reason this time is much less sinister. I will try and come by soon, maybe then I can tell you more._

 _But I am happy, Dad. Very much so._

 _Love, Remus._

The smile was still on his face as he flicked his wand over the ink to dry it and slowly folded the parchment. He felt guilty about still being so vague after he had not contacted his father for months, but it was necessary.

And in one aspect at least he had not been lying. For the first time in many years, Remus Lupin was absolutely and completely happy with his life.

* * *

 **The Boy at the Movies**

"And then when the Colonel didn't even notice he'd lost his own son..." Harry collapsed in a fit of giggles, almost spilling his hot chocolate.

"I thought the bear was best," Sirius said, grinning as he leant back in his chair, "He's got life figured out."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Yes, you would think that," he said dryly, "having never worked a day in your life." But there was no real bite in his voice and he, too, was smiling.

It had been a great birthday – the _best_ , actually, even though that wasn't actually saying much.

There had been presents – _actual_ presents! For him! – he had been flying with Sirius – flying was simply the best, he had decided, even if he had felt rather guilty afterwards for demolishing half the drawing room – and then they had even gone out together.

It wasn't the first time Harry had left the house since that disastrous shopping trip a few months ago, but up until now he had only accompanied Remus a few short times to get groceries. Despite the pirate's absence he had still felt apprehensive about it, especially since the scarlet robed figures were still lurking in front of their house.

But a week ago they had suddenly been gone, and a look at Remus' paper had shown them the reason. Under the familiar picture that Harry thought didn't look like his godfather at all was the headline: _BLACK SPOTTED IN CHICAGO – LEFT ENGLAND FOR GOOD?_

It had to be a false report, obviously – there had been quite a few of those, after all – but apparently the ministry actually thought it plausible.

"Looks like Dumbledore tried to help us after all," Remus had said, smiling cautiously. Sirius had merely scoffed, obviously not believing the old wizard responsible. Harry didn't know who of them was right, but he didn't really care either way. What mattered was that the hunt for them had shifted, and that he could go outside again without fear. And, most importantly, with Sirius.

They had played fetch with Padfoot in a park, enjoying the warm summer air, and then Remus and Sirius – now human again, though of course in disguise – had taken him to a cinema. Harry had never been there, of course, though he had heard Dudley and his friends talk about it. As it turned out, it was even better than he had expected, especially when Sirius decided that on a birthday, popcorn for dinner was totally acceptable.

Now, though, happy as he was, he couldn't help but feel rather exhausted. He knew he would be sent do bed soon, but somehow he didn't want this day to end.

"It reminded me of you," he said without thinking, voicing an idea that had come into his head while watching the movie. "Baloo the bear, I mean. It was like he was you and Bagheera was Remus."

There was a short silence as Remus and Sirius exchanged a look, surprise on their faces. Then, Sirius burst into laughter, with Remus following shortly after.

"It was a bit, wasn't it Prongslet?" Sirius grinned, ruffling Harry's hair like he often did. "So the monkeys are the ministry? I do like that very much." He chuckled again.

Harry also grinned, but he suddenly didn't feel all that happy anymore. Because the more he thought about the story of Mowgli, the more uncomfortable the comparison got.

His parents _had_ been killed as a child, and the monster who did it might very well come back once more. He knew he hadn't been supposed to listen in on Sirius' and Remus' talk with Dumbledore but he'd heard enough to catch something about a charm that would keep him safe – as long as he stayed with the Dursleys.

Was that what was going to happen should Voldemort return? Would Sirius and Remus, like Baloo and Bagheera, decide that they would have to send Harry back to the "humans"?

"I didn't like the ending, though," he could hear himself mutter.

Sirius frowned, pausing in his comparison between Kind Louie and Cornelius Fudge. "Why not? The bad guy lost, didn't he?"

"I think it was stupid he went back to the mu- humans," Harry said, fixating his almost empty mug. "He should have stayed with Baloo and Bagheera."

There was a small pause, and he had the feeling that Sirius and Remus were silently communicating. "Harry?" His godfather finally asked, sounding very serious. Harry kept staring at his mug, but when he felt a hand on his shoulder he finally raised his head, finding Sirius looking at him with unusual sincerity. "You know we would never send you away, don't you?"

Harry felt colour rise to his cheeks, embarrassed that they had seen through him so easily. "You might, though," he objected, not caring how whiny he sounded, "If...if you decide that it's safer for me. Or that I'm endangering you."

"No."

Harry was surprised at the vehemence with which the word was spoken, and the resolve blazing in the grey eyes. "But-"

" _No_ ," Sirius didn't let him finish. "We will _never_ send you away. We will keep you safe. We might have to hide, we might have to run, but we will _never_ abandon you. I swear it to you, Harry, on your parents' graves. You won't ever be alone again."

Harry felt strong arms wrap around him, and he clung to his godfather's shirt, confused but secretly glad about the fierceness of his words. Sirius appeared to be trembling.

"Thank you," Harry mumbled after a while, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden. "Thank you for taking me in. And you too, Remus."

The werewolf smiled at him from behind Sirius' back. "There is no need to thank us, Harry," he said gently, before rising to his feet. "But I'm afraid it's time for bed now. Even birthday boys need their sleep."

Reluctantly Harry let go of his godfather. "Okay. Will you read to me?"

Sirius grinned. "You bet on it, Prongslet. We'll be up in a minute." His voice sounded scratchier than normal, and there was suspicious moisture in his eyes.

Harry felt stupid for ever worrying about being sent back to the Dursleys. _We're a family. You don't send away your family._

As strange as it might have seemed a few months ago, there were people who loved him. People who didn't just tolerate him, or took him in because they had been forced to or maybe even pitied him, but people who genuinely cared about him. Who _wanted_ him to live with them. He smiled as he slowly walked up the stairs.

Knowing you were loved, he decided, was a thousand times better than riding a broom.

 **The End**


End file.
